Who sows the wind
by oesimaus
Summary: Picks up the story after 5x08 - what happened in the 10 month Liz was in coma and afterwards? Some reveals, some hurt, some secrets and some surprises... All this after the impact of 5x22 (season finale)! Rated M for upcoming chapters! All Lizzington *this is my first fic and english is not my native language - please be patient*
1. Chapter 1

Who sows the wind…

Chapter 1

Bonding

The same heartbreaking routine every morning.  
His dark eyes witnessed a meanwhile very familiar scene unfolding in this bright bedroom, which was flooded with the first orange sunrays of the early hours. The promise of a coming day. The curtains drifted gently in the morning breeze.  
The open book on the night stand, her small hand in his friend´s larger one. The deep and raspy whisper of his caressing words. The quiet hissing of the respirator.  
Dembe's face unreadable as always he softly closed the door. Giving them some privacy.

It's been 3 months.  
At least she was his. To care about her, to be at her side. Wasn't that what he had always wished for them?  
Be careful what you wish for, he told himself.  
He passed the large hallway on his way to the kitchen. Paris was already rattling with his pans and cutlery, creating some of his highly recommended omelettes for breakfast.

Dembe had been to worse places than the motor lodge, but indeed, he appreciated the luxury Red's business could offer.

Red was back. Almost even as before.  
Before Kate.  
Before the suitcase.  
Before things got out of hand.  
Only Red could rebuild an empire starting with a sly postman and a dog parlor.

They all moved in a few weeks ago. Just a couple of days before Liz' release from hospital.  
Red wanted to make sure she would have everything she needed. She and Agnes.  
The first time for a lifetime they stayed longer than 3 nights in the same place. Red put their needs before his own. Their wellbeing before his safety. As he always has. Dembe wondered if Liz would ever recognize Red's efforts to show his affection. If she ever would learn the truth and if Raymond would ever be able to tell her.  
Well, if she should, she would have to wake up first.  
His mood was gloomy as he sat down at the table.

"Noooo!" Dembe slightly jumped and tried not to spill his coffee while Paris immediately stopped in his tracks and reached for the cocoa powder instead, breathing a sigh. "Nooooo!"  
The pleasant quiet of this morning ended abruptly with an 18 month old toddler bursting into the room wearing nothing but a diaper. Agnes was awake. Her nanny followed right behind carrying the missing clothing.  
"I´m sorry, I wasn't paying attention - only for a second! Agnes! Will you please stop and let me put on your dress?" "Noooooo!" the answer was clear and loud. Very clear and extremely loud. She shaked her little head so energetically that her meanwhile pretty long and dark hair stood on end.  
Agnes completed her second turn around the table and was on her way to the hallway again.  
Suddenly she was lifted by two strong arms which picked her up and tossed her high into the air just to catch her again safely. The little girl squealed in delight.

„Here you are little princess!" Red smiled down at the gleaming girl in his arms. „Don't wanna dress today - again?" he frowned.  
„Mr. Reddington, I'm so sorry - I just wanted to get her socks...she jumped at the chance ... couldn't grab her in time..." Rosa stammered to her employer, who had been adamant that Rosa will care for Agnes beyond Tom's death and Liz' absence. At least there would be one familiar person caring for Agnes and giving her some sort of stability. Even if it meant that she had to look after the girl 24/7 Rosa didn't have to think much about Red's offer when she learned about her new salary. No one could ever say no to that - and to Mr. Reddington. Overall she loved this little stubborn head.

Rosa actually got used to the fact that there were always two guards on her heels when she even thought about leaving the house with Agnes. She didn't have a clue why Reddington insisted on that, but he definitely had to be a very rich person- _he had a cook for his own for heavens sake_ \- maybe he was frightened of someone kidnapping his granddaughter. After all that happened to Agnes' parents. If she had a father this wealthy, well, she wouldn't work at all. At least she wouldn't choose this immensely dangerous FBI agent job Liz' had. She hoped Liz' would think about that when...if she wakes up.

Red sat down at the table with Agnes on his lap. Paris made a beeline across the counter, eager to serve coffee and breakfast. And of course some milk for Agnes. He secretly added some cocoa powder every time and everyone pretended not to notice.

„Now, young lady, what are your plans for today? To turn some heads on the playground again? Cakes in the sandbox? To occupy the swing for hours?" Agnes was fascinated watching him talking and didn't notice that Rosa took the opportunity and started to dress her. „Well, we actually thought about visiting the playground after her nap, Mr. Reddington." „All right, playground it is!" „Come on monkey, be a good girl. Finish your milk and say good bye to your grandpa!" Agnes did as she was told by Rose and slung her little arms around Red's neck. He gave her a soft squeeze while he closed his eyes and inhaled her sweet scent right at her small throat. Memories of bygone times flooded his mind.  
„See you later, princess, have a great day!" he whispered.

„So it's grandpa now, huh?" he stated more to himself when Agnes and Rosa had left.  
„You've had enough time to rectify." Dembe was right as always.

„Any word on our problem?" Red tried to change the subject.

„Her presence is good for you."

„Maybe I should reach out to Frank? A lot of us profit from his services."

„You should spend more time with her."

„His connections are extensive and he has ears and eyes everywhere."

„You are less lugubrious when she's around."

The expensive porcelain clanged dangerously loudly when Red put down his cup.

„I hear you. Listen, I ..."

The doorbell cut off their debate. The nurse checked in for Liz regularly at this time of the day. But after listening to a short banter between a female voice and the guard at the front door they heard vigorous footsteps heading towards the dining table.

„Samar! What an unexpected pleasure!"  
Red switched into charming mode in a second. „Please sit down. Paris, coffee for our guest please. Had something for breakfast, Samar? Paris would conjure a delicious omelette for you, even better than I had in this little French bistro at Rue de ..."

„Yes, I'm sure about that. Good morning Reddington, Dembe." she gave a small nod to the large man. „Just coffee please."

„That's what I call a domicile." Samar was visibly impressed after a brief look around.  
She took a sip of her coffee. She wasn't a small talk person. She was more comfortable getting right to the point. „Any news? Improvements?" she asked carefully. „No."  
„I see."  
„I assume this is not a courtesy visit. What do you want? Did Harold send you?"

„Cooper is at the end of his patience. The director is pushing him for results. We did all the remaining paperwork by now. The filing. We even polished our desks and cleaned the windows. He decided to send one of us to ask you, to convince you, that it's time to move on with our work."

„There are no windows at the Blacksite." Red stated.

The silence that followed was uneasy.

„Look, Samar, this is not how it works. My terms where simple but clear. No Agent Keen, no Blacklist."

„I expected this." Samar sighed „Aram convinced you once to go on - though we all mourned Liz' death. Especially you. Somehow he found the right words to reach you, to break your own condition for a higher aim. I'm here to remind you of that."

„Maybe you should have sent Aram then."

„He will show up next, if I'm not successful." Samar smiled. „Reddington, you took care of Agnes. You arranged a dignified funeral service for Tom though it's no secret you both had a history. And on top of that you raise all your resources to give Liz the best possible treatment. You are not this selfish prick you want us to believe you are. Do you really want to quit now? Neither our work is finished nor your mission fulfilled."

„What do you know about a _mission_?" he snorted.

„I know you have one. And it revolves around Elisabeth Keen. I have no clue why or what this is about. There are simpler ways for bonding with family. Furthermore I wonder if she deserves your devotion. Her and Kaplan's betrayal hit you hard. More than you are ever willing to admit."  
Samar feared she had gone too far, but Reddington remained silent.

When he finally answered his voice was low. „You see this ...bonding...was all very successful. Liz' husband is dead, her child is growing up without parents and even the specialists don't dare to give a prognosis about her condition if she will ever wake up again."

„At least we can carry on Liz' job at the post office."

„Give me some days to think about." Red rose to make it clear this discussion was over. „I'll let you know."

„That's more than I hoped for, thanks. Goodbye Reddington and, um well, you have a stain on your collar. Looks like chocolate."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Nightmares

Red woke with a start. The room was dark and he could feel he was not alone. He tried to even his breathing. Sweat had formed on his face and back. Where the hell was he? It happened quite regularly in the last few weeks that he startled up from a nightmare. Nothing Red wasn't used to, but the dreams had become more daunting and vivid. He checked his watch. 10.34 pm. Already feeling for the gun under his pillow he noticed his glasses and the large book on his chest. His eyes slowly accustomed to the darkness. A small night-light glowed on the other side of the room. Agnes' room. He remembered. Thursday. Rosa's evening. She was out with friends and Agnes couldn't sleep so he gave in to read her the story of the little duck which was looking for its favorite stuffed toy. Obviously he had fallen asleep shortly after the girl, whose steady breathing right on his side calmed him down a little. Until the echo of his nightmare hit him full power.

* * *

Takoma Park, May 1988

„Hey girls, Daddy's home!" He put his keys in the bowl on the dresser at the entrance.  
No response. He tossed his jacket on a chair and walked towards the living room.  
„Anybody home?" Also no sign of them in the kitchen.  
He opened the freezer and got himself a bottle of beer. When he took his first gulp, his view fell on the colorful flowerbeds outside the window. There she was. For a few moments he lovingly watched his wife pulling out the weeds and cutting of the faded blossoms before he turned to walk into the garden. When she heard the back door she wiped her hands on her jeans and got up to greet him.

„Do you call this a proper welcome for your husband?" he teased. She walked towards him and embraced his waist.  
„You are home early." She kissed him passionately. „Hi honey, I missed you." „Not as much as I missed my girls. I really have to ask for a desk job - home at 6 every night..." „You wouldn't survive 3 days." she grinned. „But sleeping in the same bed with my wife every night would help! I love you." He rested his forehead on hers.  
„Where is our ballerina?" „She's at Mary's birthday party. Don't you remember? I told you on the phone yesterday."  
„Right, you told me. You also told me it was an overnight party, didn't you?" He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her inside.

* * *

He still could hear her happy laughter.

Red carefully got out of the bed and tiptoed out of Agnes' room. He was still fuzzy-headed and he needed a drink. Even better two drinks and a shower. The knot in his stomach hurt like hell. They all were wrong. Time won't heal all wounds. Time only teaches you to get along with the pain. The first glass was downed in one gulp. Red sat down with his second scotch in the library and took a deep breath. The warmth of the alcohol was spreading in his body. 30 years and he wasn't much closer to an answer than he had been on the day, when he uttered these fateful words for the very first time: „My name is Raymond Reddington."

If he had known this mess would last his whole lifetime, he would have destroyed those damned bones a long time ago. Forgotten forevermore. There was a time when he thought he would need his remains to end this drama. The bones should have been his way out. His way home. His way to finally be able to mourn in the knowledge that he had taken revenge.  
He wished there had been someone who had warned him about walking down this path. Someone like himself, who had warned Agent Ressler not to make the same fatal mistake. Someone who had been _his_ sineater.

„Sleepless?" Dembe joined him in the library. „Nightmares." Dembe nodded. „Something's going on inside yourself. I'm not surprised."  
„What!?" Red was irritated. „And don't sing that the-truth-will-surface song to me again!"  
„Not tonight. But your secret is somewhere out there. Liz is close, but yet far away. Her daughter is your responsibility now. And you quit your work with the task force. Too many loose ends - even for you."  
Red took another large sip. „I hate that you are always correct."  
„I know." the large man smiled slightly. „But - since I'm always correct - I can assure you that everything will work out the way it has to."  
„I really don't know if your words should calm my mind or cause me to put a bullet in my head myself. " Red frowned. „Neither of these. I just want you to be prepared. Things got in motion, my brother. It started when you shot Kate. A storm is coming. I can feel the tension creeping up my back. And so do you."

Red was in a really bad temper when he headed towards the bathroom. Maybe a long and hot shower would wash off his frustration and he would be able to find some sleep afterwards. While he carelessly stripped off his suit he made a decision. He would not wait sitting on his hands until fate would come and haunt him. It was time to get his head out of the sand. It was time to brace himself. He felt slightly better when he stepped into the shower and turned on the water.

Red pressed his forehead against the cool marble tiles while the hot jet streamed down his tired body.  
His memories mixed with the sound of the water drops hammering at the glas doors of his luxurious shower.

* * *

Takoma Park, July 4th. 1988

The thunderstorm hit the area quite fast and heavy. Their guests had left the party in a hurry after the first roll of thunder. The low clouds darkened the blue summer sky in a minute. Shortly after, the rain beat on the roof, the windows and the remaining tables and chairs in the garden.

„Next year it's Ray's and Carla's turn to host the barbecue for holiday. We've thrown enough parties." He put the first used plates in the kitchen sink and started the dish washing. „I don't know if there will still be a Ray-and-Carla next year..." He stopped his action and looked at her puzzled. „What do you want to say?"  
„Well, I don't know but there are rumors and Carla dropped some vague hints. Not only today, but she seems pretty upset and sad at once for the last couple of weeks. Jennifer seems rather quiet too. Children always sense if there's something wrong."  
„Meaning?" „I think he's cheating on her. People are talking. He's hardly home anymore and if he is, their fighting is not to be missed."  
„Ok, I don't give a shit about people talking but I do trust your intuition, sweetheart. Look, it's no surprise that Raymond is gone for work most of the time. He's determined to be the youngest Navy Admiral ever announced. He puts his career above everything, even his family. And he bragged with his overseas missions quite a lot previously. This rooster wears his uniform even at family occasions and bursts with pride. I never was his fan but do you really think he's capable of having an affair? Or isn't Carla's tendency towards drama more probable?"

He started rubbing the sticky dishes again.  
His wife took a moment before she answered: „Carla told me he has changed a lot. Got quick-tempered. Impatient. Selfish and cold. I really feel sorry for her and Jen."  
„Should I have a word with him?"  
„I really don't know if that helps." she shrugged. „Or if it would make things even worse."

„Daddy, the storm is easing. May I turn on the TV for some minutes?" Their conversation was interrupted by their daughter who had waddled into the kitchen. „Ok, Liz, but only 20 minutes. And after that you get ready for bed. Don't forget to brush your teeth!" he ordered. „Ok. May I sleep in your bed, just in case...uh... the storm is coming back?" she gave him her most convincing look. „All right, in case the storm is coming back." he smiled at her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Blame

„Any word from Reddington?"

Assistant director Harold Cooper was furious after Cynthia Panabaker had left his office with a smug grin on her face. She had looked like the cat that ate the canary as the big yellow metal doors of the elevator closed behind her.

„We have 2 weeks! If we don't deliver, the director will terminate this task force faster than we could say „Blacklist". Agent Mojtabai - you'll see Reddington first thing tomorrow morning. Try your best to convince him! Be more persuasive than Agent Navabi had been!" Cooper's office door was shut with a bang.

Aram paled visibly. „Did you hear that? He called me Agent Mojtabai. Not Aram. He will serve my head on a silver plate if I fail."  
He swallowed hard.  
„Don't worry! Reddington has a crush on you anyway." Donald Ressler patted his back encouragingly. „You have him in your pockets already."  
„Maybe he just needs more time. Well, look, maybe he isn't over it yet...Liz..the assault...her condition...I mean she's his daughter after all."  
„Yeah, sure. That's something _I'm_ not over yet." Not only Aram noticed the sarcasm in Samar's voice. „Do you have other information? There was a DNA test. You can't fake those. Whether you like it or not, we have to deal with that and it mustn't affect our work here." Ressler snapped. „Let's wait and see how long our work here will last at all. You heard Cooper."  
Samar was tired of being condemned to idleness. „I had hoped we would be inundated with work - searching for Liz' and Tom's assaulters by now. But local police handles it as a standard armed robbery and everyone seems to be just fine with that." she shook her head in disbelief. „I'm sure Mr. Reddington does his own investigation. Likely he's 2 steps ahead to track down this sons of bitches. There's no place to hide when he's tracing them." Aram was quite confident.

All heads turned when the clang of the elevator announced a new visitor at the „post office". When the doors opened, the approaching silhouette looked very familiar to everyone.

„Hell, yes, I can't get enough of a big entrance. Let's do it again, shall we?" Reddington threw his arms in the air.  
„You should see your faces. I met Cynthia on my way here." Red gestured towards the elevator. „Her expression matched yours exactly. Missed me or did Cooper refuse your request for a raise?"

„Mr. Reddington - you're back, I mean, you are here!" Aram blurted. He just realized gladly that Red's appearance saved his neck and spared him to obey Cooper's former order. „I mean, uh, you're back for us, er, for work. Aren't you?" he fumbled with his tie.

„Relax, Agent Mojtabai." Red tilted his head and watched the young Agent with some amusement. „I recently promised to Samar I would inform you about my decision whether I'm able to proceed with our work here or not."

„Spit it out, Reddington." Samar pushed.

„Let's see what Harold has to say to my offer first." Red turned for the stairs to Cooper's office.

„How's Liz? And Agnes?" Aram called after Reddington. „Agnes is fine, thank you." he finally answered after a slight pause.  
Every member of the task force felt Reddington's mood change within a second. „Great to hear that." Ressler cleared his throat. „Cooper's really in urgent need of some good news. Panabaker and the new director gave him a hard time."

„Hello, Harold!" Red didn't bother to knock and let himself inside Cooper's office. He took off his fedora and sat down in one of the visitors' chairs in front of the large desk, hat on this lap.  
Cooper didn't succeed completely in holding in his surprise when he looked up from his paperwork. „Reddington! It's about time for you to show up!" He took off his glasses and tossed them on his work desk. „What took you this long?" Red wiped some imaginary dust off his hat. „I was busy. I had to arrange a funeral, find a new home with some space for an intensive care unit and a nursery for a little girl whose world turned upside down and - not to forget - I had to take care of some investigations relating to a specific incident at an apartment house here in D.C. about three months ago. Something that should have been your job, to put it mildly." „I see." Cooper got somewhat soft in an instant. „You know our hands were tied when the locals took over the official investigation. It falls within the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Police. We couldn't prove that the attack on Liz and Tom was related to Keen's work with the FBI without jeopardizing our work here. Without compromising our work with you."

„So it's my fault now?" Red frowned.

„I didn't say that...but...we all know this was no coincidence. Liz and Tom were no random victims. You know something, you showed up at their apartment for a reason. MPD is still in the dark about these mysterious saviors who killed those bastards, who packed Liz and Tom in a car and got them to ER. They have a license plate and the projectiles, but it's lost on them.  
I feel certain that the bullets that hit those morons belongs to your weapon. Or Dembe's. Or both. Though it was too late for Tom, you saved Agent Keen's life for sure."  
Cooper put on his glasses again and studied his opposite over the top of it before he went on: „I saw you at the hospital, Reddington, I saw the look on your face. You blamed yourself for this mess. Care to enlighten me?"

Red held Cooper's gaze.

„Tom Keen stole something from me. Something of great value."

„Why would he do that?" Cooper was taken aback.

„I warned him, once, twice, three times to leave it alone, to keep his hands off. That this...object ...would not be for his benefit but will put him in grave danger. And Elisabeth. Because it's valuable for me, it is priceless for my enemies. Snakes in the grass who would kill to get their hands on it. Tom wasn't interested. He framed me. His stated aim was to harm me, to have something powerful in his possession to clip my line to Elisabeth. He lost sight of the possibility that his foolish act wouldn't have the expected impact and became a target himself. I wasn't there in time to prevent the worst.

The bottom line here is: I blame Tom and him alone for everything that happened after he ran home to Agent Keen straightaway with some hell-bent killers on his heels."

Cooper needed a moment to absorb Red's words.

„And this...object... is.."  
„None of your business, Harold" Red interrupted.  
„I see. Could it become a problem for my people or for our work here?"

„I hope not."

For the first time Cooper had a feeling that he sensed some uncertainty in Reddington's expression.

„Ok. Let's keep it this way. For now." Harold sighed

„I'd appreciate that. But, however, I got here for a purpose. I'm here to submit an offer."  
„I'm all ears!"  
„In faint hopes that Agent Keen will recover completely some day and continue her work on the Blacklist I'm willing to resume our agreement. Since Elisabeth has to meet other challenges at present I'd love to accept Agent Navabi as her replacement."

„Agent Navabi." Cooper repeated and silently thanked whoever changed Reddington's mind.

„There would be too much debating with Donald. He's always questioning my intentions. Though he is fun most of the time, it would be too stressful in the long run." Red's well-known arrogance was back entirely.

Harold nodded his approval. „I'll have a word with Samar about your proposal. I don't want to exclude her from this decision. Certainly you will understand that."

„I expected nothing less of you. I'll see you tomorrow, Harold. Have a nice day!"  
Red got up from his chair, put on his fedora and turned to go. His hand already rested on the doorknob when he spoke: „And Harold. I haven't thanked you for the DNA test so far. An unexpected yet clever move."

With this he left Cooper's office.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Snapshots

Dembe awaited Red as he left the „Post Office" and opened the door of the large black Mercedes limousine for him. Red slumped down onto the comfortable leather rear seat. When Dembe sat behind the wheel he observed his passenger in the mirror.

„Shall we go home?"

„No. Indiana Avenue. We have an appointment in 40 minutes."

„Delgado?"

„Exactly. Let's see what he's got for us."

Dembe pulled the car away from the sidewalk and merged with the heavy traffic.

Officer Chris Delgado was late when he got into Red's car. „I'm sorry guys. The line in the canteen was endless." He passed Reddington a large envelope.

Red was bugged by the man's persistent delays:

„What did you find out since last time we met?"

„Three weeks ago the chief entrusted Detective Singleton with further investigations. By that time the results were rather poor. Singleton is a trouper. Came over from OC four years ago. Established reputation." Delgado shrugged. „Did some talking. He seems quite efficient and focused. And clean."

Red flipped through the documents Delgado was able to copy for him.

„Any traces? Evidence?" he pushed.

„Some. Gave you the names of the dead guys last time already. Fischbauch, Worgul, Shelly and Madigan were members of the „Nash Syndicate". Drugs mainly, some money laundering and smuggling. Got quite weighty the last few years.

Your dead folks were only sidekicks, good enough to do the dirty work. Got you some information. Background. Police records. Ballistics." he pointed towards the papers in Reddington's hands before he spoke on: „Someone must have hired them. No way they had the brains to go through with something on their own.

One got shot by his own gun. Likely by Mr. Keen. The others died from bullets of two different weapons. It's safe to assume that there were at least two more people involved in this mess. No one has a clue who that was. But Singleton got his teeth into it. Only a matter of time 'til he finds out.

Fischbauch and the others usually got hired for some donkeywork by a crap called Navarro. A fellow who is also on the payroll of the Nash Syndicate. I duplicated his photo for you ... uh, yes, there it is."

The officer put his finger on the nasty mugshot of a bearded man who obviously needed a strict diet. Red immediately recognized him from the shooting shortly after he got the suitcase back from Tom. Before he betrayed him - again. The farmhouse.

Delgado continued talking: „Four days ago Detective Singleton ordered said Navarro in for questioning. He had to kick him loose. Had nothing to nail him.

Until now, no one has an idea what the Keens had to do with the Nash Syndicate. The Feds denied that Agent Keen was somehow involved in investigations related to OC."

Red nodded. „I know him." He tapped Navarro's picture. „He was with someone.

Four-eyed, bullnecked, bald. Does this ring a bell?"

„No, sorry." Delgado answered after some careful deliberation.

„Thanks, Officer Delgado. You have my number. In case something comes up." Red handed his informant a small package. „This is for your trouble."

„Always fun to do some business with you, Mr. Reddington." Delgado put the money in the inside pocket of his jacket and left the Mercedes with a brief nod.

„I loathe corrupt cops! Men like Delgado hold out their hands to any chance. You can't count how many felons are at large because of men like him." Red was disgusted.

„Sometimes you have to rely on men like him to get crucial information." Dembe added for consideration.

„Yeah. We finally have a name. Dennison was a dead end anyway. Call Crespin, he has to turn over every rock to find out about Navarro. His contacts, his clients, his girlfriends, his weaknesses. Maybe we will get a lead to his boss.

We have to reclaim the suitcase. The longer it's out there, the more people know about it. I can't let that be. If someone finds out what secret the bones hold...he got me by my balls."

...

„Hi boss!" Red was greeted by his guard at the front door when they got home. „The doctor checked in about 30 minutes ago."

„Thanks, Tony." Red took off his hat and his suit jacket and walked towards Liz' room.

He knocked cautiously at the door and waited until he heard the doctor's response. „Yes, come in!"

When he finally opened, the physician was just about to cover Elizabeth with a blanket again. She looked more face-paled with every week that passed and Red winced at the realization that she had lost a lot of weight. She appeared so small and fragile in the huge bed. Red was stabbed through the heart. „Hello, Mr. Reddington!" the doc greeted him with a big smile when Red entered the room and closed the door again.

„I have no complaints. Everything is just fine. Maybe we should increase the nutrition for some more calories, but that's all. You and the nurses are doing an amazing job here, at your home." The doctor left some instructions on the health record and noted the test results.

„She's got so ...thin."

„Her muscles and bones are reducing from the lack of movement. Physical therapy only stops the process to a certain level."

„I know." Red took Liz' hand in his and caressed her fingers with his thumb.

His expression got the doctor to be more thoughtful.

„Mr. Reddington, are you sure you can cope with this situation? You are not committed to deal with Ms. Keen's health care at home. You can always consider to ..."

„No!" Red harshly cut off the doc's words.

„No way! She's staying here."

The physician nodded. „All right then. Call me anytime you want or have to."

„Yes, thank you." Red's eyes kept focused on Liz. „Is there anything left I can do for her?" he asked.

„Well, as I told you before, these kinds of injuries are quite tricky. Despite all the progresses medicine has made the past decades we still can't prognosticate when, or even if, someone regains consciousness after this kind of severe traumatic brain injury. She was fortunate to receive a very fast treatment after her trauma."

„Fortunate..." Red echoed sarcastically.

The doctor soothingly placed his hand on Red's shoulder.

„Yes she was. Ms. Keen would be dead otherwise. You are doing everything just right. Talk to her, touch her, be there for her. She's got a chance and if she's clever, she'll take it."

...

„Are we supposed to go anywhere tonight?" Dembe leant at the doorframe watching Red as he came out of the bathroom, straightening his cuffs.

„No, we are not. I am." Red began to button his vest.

Dembe drew himself up to his full high.

He knew that countenance.

„You can't be serious!"

„Do I look like I'm kidding?" Red adjusted his tie.

„No, Raymond, you look like a fool."

„Pardon me?"

„Is that really necessary? Elizabeth is two doors down your room. Spend some time with her!"

„I've got that uneasy feeling to suffocate any minute. I can't breath. More than enough is too much. How did you describe it a few days ago? Oh yes, I remember: Too many loose endings - even for me.

At the moment I just want to get out of here. Release some steam. Forget about this load of shit for some hours at least."

„Then do a run around the block. Have a long walk. Visit a stage play. Take in some jazz at the Vanguard."

„That's really not the kind of distraction I had in mind." Red slipped into his suit jacket. „I know you mean well, Dembe, but

I'm accountable to none. Not even to you. I respect that you don't approve what I'm up to. But I've made my decision." He closed the clasp of his watch emphatically.

„You and I know you will feel bad about it. Afterwards." Dembe crossed his arms.

„Put it on the list."

„Ok, I'll drive you there." Dembe offered sighing.

„No. I don't want you to wait in the car while I'm... you know. Stay with Lizzy and Agnes. Tony will take me there."

...

The ride took about 40 minutes and lead Reddington to a residential neighborhood at an affluent suburb of D.C..

Tony shut off the Mercedes in the parking garage of a small apartment house, which was surrounded by a perfectly trimmed lawn.

Red exited his limousine and strode up for the elevator. Though it's been a while the location was quite familiar to him. He pressed the button for the top floor.

The woman who opened after Red rang the doorbell was in her early thirties. Her long and full dark hair framed a greatly attractive face. The form-fitting black dress settled any doubts about her perfect feminine curves.

„Good evening, Sharon" Red accepted her extended hand which featured remarkable manicured fingernails. He brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed her knuckles salutatory.

„Kenneth Rogers! I have to admit that I was very pleased about your call. Haven't heard anything from you for a while." She gave him a flirtatious smile. „Please come inside and make yourself at home!"

The woman stepped out of the way and Red entered.

Sharon's elegant apartment hasn't changed a lot since his last visit. The spare and well-chosen decoration matched with her few but expensive pieces of furniture. The tasteful paintings at the walls confirmed Sharon's eye for details as well.

The woman took Red's hat and his coat and put it into the wardrobe before she headed for the counter and poured him two fingers of his favorite brand of scotch.

It was her capital that she remembered all the little details and preferences of her clients. That and her physical appearance. Those were deciding reasons why she was successful in her business and could choose which men she would please with her companionship.

Not everyone was able to afford her services anyway.

Well, Kenneth Rogers was able to, obviously.

She preferred clients like him. Charming, eloquent, sophisticated and always freshly showered.

Sharon was sure Kenneth wasn't his real name - most of her visitors wanted to stay anonymous. She didn't care though, she knew some of them from the news or magazines. After all, Sharon was not her true name either.

Red took the offered drink while he discreetly deposed an envelope on the counter in exchange.

„It's been a long time since your last visit, Ken. I was wondering if you forgot about me." Her hands wandered up his arms and came to a rest at his neck. She seductively gazed up to him and wet her lips with a brief flick of her tongue.

„How has the world been treating you since then?"

The scent of her subtle perfume surrounded him.

„To be honest, not very well. Not to everyone's sadness."

He took a sip of his scotch.

„I'm sorry to hear that." Sharon's expression seemed genuine.

Red reminded himself that he had payed for an illusion. A convincing one, but still an illusion.

„Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I'm a good listener." She stripped off his suit jacket and tossed it on the barstool besides them.

„I know you are my dear. I've enjoyed our conversations every time so far. But today... I'm not in the mood for talking right now." He stared at her with darkened eyes. Sharon answered with a nod. „Ok, I see. What do you want me to do?" „Wait for me in your bedroom and get ready. I'm with you in a minute."

„Don't make me wait too long." she whispered in his ear and kissed his temple before she tantalizingly strode towards the master bedroom.

Red finished his drink. He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. After putting down his empty glass he started to unbutton his vest while he turned and followed Sharon towards her bedroom.

She was waiting for him at her bedside. The moment he stepped through the door Sharon reached for the zipper of her dress and slowly undid it.

The soft black fabric fell down to her ankles, exposing her well-toned body to Red's hungry eyes. He made it towards the woman who awaited him silently.

Her matching lace lingerie covered little of her breasts and even less of her pubic mound.

Red bent forward to kiss her neck and her collarbone, following down the compelling path to the swell of her breast. Impatiently he opened the clasp of her bra and bared her subtle flesh to his eyes. He was eager to palm her full and firm breasts. Even though this increased merely his own arousal.

This wasn't about lovemaking.

No tender kisses, no exchange of affection, no whispers of caring words in each other's ears. This was only about satisfaction of needs. His needs.

He wondered if some day he would be lucky enough once more to receive some satisfaction of his soul.

„Hey, handsome fella- don't get lost!"

She smiled up to him, noticing his distraction.

Red tried to focus and got rid off his vest and his tie as quickly as possible. Sharon hastened to undo the buttons of his dress shirt until she finally managed to put it off his broad shoulders. Ken obviously was in a rush tonight.

She knew he insisted to keep on his t-shirt, so she didn't even try to take it off. Instead she reached for his waistband and unbuckled his belt. When Sharon pushed down his pants at last, Red grasped her hand and guided it towards the growing bulge in his boxers. His breathing became more labored when she began to stroke him expertly through the silken fabric.

„It won't last long tonight - it's been a while." he panted.

„Don't bother yourself about that. Relax. No one is pushing you. Simply enjoy yourself. Let me help you with that." she purred.

Sharon worked her long fingers inside the smooth cloth and cupped his crotch, beginning to massage his rigid length, teasing him with her fingernails.

Red closed his eyes and couldn't help but push into the warm hand pleasing him.

As soon as his shorts followed the other garments on top of the increasing pile of clothes on the floor, Red kicked off his shoes and removed his socks.

„Get that off!" he ordered tucking at her panties.

He sat down on the bed, resting his back against the wooden headboard.

He pumped his shaft absently watching Sharon stepping out of her sexy lingerie and her high heels.

She followed him onto the soft cushion and crawled towards him, willing to grant him any desires.

Red reached for the bowl on the nightstand and tossed her a condom before he slightly spread his legs. „Suck me!" Sharon tore the foil open and rolled the thin latex in place neatly.

Red watched her full and firm lips sliding up and down his sheathed penis, her tongue teasing his sensitive glans.

„More!" he demanded, reaching for the back of her head. He buried his fingers into the strands of her hair guiding her to a rhythmic pace he favored.

„Yes. Fuck, that's it!" he hissed his approval as his head fell back in ecstasy.

He spread his legs even more to allow her better access to his balls. Sharon took the unmistakable hint and cupped his sack playing skillfully with his testicles.

She gripped the base of his twitching member tightly and assisted her oral stimulations with her hand.

Red let go of her neck and clenched the satin sheets, his knuckles whitening with tension.

The constantly alternation of pushing and drawing combined with the play of her tongue and hands got him close rapidly. For a moment he considered to leave it on that.

A blowjob wasn't the worst way to receive any sexual satisfaction.

But somehow he managed to draw her body towards him to be seated on his lap. Straddling him.

He yanked her closer and dragged her roughly into position - matching to his own posture.

His craving got almost unbearable when he felt the warmth of her womanhood against his cock head. Reaching for her shapely ass cheeks he repeatedly rubbed his erection along her labia.

The woman knew he was more than ready.

She grasped his pulsating dick delicately and guided him towards her entrance.

Effortlessly she accepted his massive organ with a single smooth move downwards, the lubricated condom and her own salvia more than helpful.

Red clenched his jaws at the sensation, halting any further movements for a few moments. His heavy breathing the only sound to hear.

„Let's close this." he thought to himself when he gripped her hips firmly to dictate the tempo, trusting deep into her, moving her up and down on his cock.

Sharon had no problem catching up with him. She used his shoulders for support and met his strokes easily.

Red buried his face in the valley between her rocking breasts and inhaled her female scent.

He somehow accomplished to increase the pace of his thrusts even more when he felt his climax within reach.

His gaze dropped down to the junction where their bodies met and watched himself swiftly sliding in and out of her.

That did it.

„Damn, yes!" he moaned with a sharp intake of breath. „Fuck!" His dark voice wavering with delight when he pumped his cum into the thin sheathing.

And all of a sudden when he fell over the edge, reaching the climax of his pleasure, _she_ appeared before his mind's eye. Emerging from the blurry haze of his pinnacle out of nothing.

 _...Lizzy..._

Cradled in his arms. Eyes closed. Breathless. Panting. Her lips slightly parted. Her warm hands on his face. He could smell her actually, taste the pleasant flavor of her skin, sweet and salty, all at once.

His heart skipped a beat.

Panic rose up from his gut and the room started spinning.

An weird feeling crept up his spine and an evil premonition shook him to the core.

Red didn't notice Sharon leaving his lap. Getting off the bed she reached for a bathrobe, covering her nudity.

She offered him a wet wipe to clean himself a little but Red didn't respond to her, his expression seemed somehow distraught. His eyes widened and his gaze frozen in terror.

„Are you ok? Ken?" The woman looked at him with honest concern.

He finally managed to shake off the unsettling images, rubbing his palms roughly over his face, blinking repeatedly.

„Yeah. Yes, I'm good." he lied. He accepted the tissue and wiped off the sticky remains of their previous activities, wrapping up the used condom and throwing it towards the trashcan with a brief flick of his wrist.

He missed.

„I'm all fucked up!" he realized.

...

Sharon had asked him to stay for some recreation in her jacuzzi and possibly even a second round. But he had refused her offer thankfully and had returned to his car.

On his way back home he watched the city lights passing by, completely caught up in his thoughts.

„You are losing it, Raymond. Near to be pushed over the edge." he muttered to his own reflection in the car window. „Don't freak out, damned!"

If he ever will be brought before a judge some day he surely could plead insanity.

He failed trying to get these images out of his head. Snapshots of a very intimate moment with _her_.

Not a somewhat fuzzy and vague recollection he tries to hold on when he awakes from a dream of her yet again. Right before it vanishes into thin air.

Every time Red closed his eyes these pictures surged at him again, vivid and razor-sharp. He even had noticed the cute freckles on her nose, the tiny hair at the base of her neck, her marvelous fragrance.

But the most disturbing detail was that it didn't feel like wishful thoughts.

It felt like memories.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ghosts

„Good morning, sweetheart!"

Red parted the drapes of the large window in Liz' room to let the daylight in before he stepped to her bed. His lips came to rest tenderly on her forehead and he stroked her smooth dark hair affectionately.

„How are you today?"

After he pulled up the chair, he sat close to her side taking her small hand in his. He brought it to his face and snuggled his warm cheek into her cool palm, fondly cupping the back of her hand.

„I hope your night was more peaceful than mine was." his voice was barely audible.

Red had not been able to find any real sleep the last couple of hours, startling up every time his body was drifting into a sort of merciful slumber.

It was like his mind didn't want him to find any rest. Hardly surprising since he still wasn't able to make head nor tail of that bizarre scenario last night.

Red released her hand to the blankets.

„Elizabeth, I've got news. It's time to resume our work with the task force, what do you think? I was at the Post Office yesterday, offering Harold that I'm willing to work with Samar until you are back. That's ok for you, isn't it?" he smiled at her, taking her hand in his again.

Red chuckled slightly as he recalled his appearance at the „blacksite" the day before.

„You should've seen Aram's face, when I stepped in. He's like a nervous schoolboy sometimes. Seems that he and Samar are getting along quite well. The computer nerd and the Mossad girl... who would have ever thought that? Opposites attract. I really hope this business is not going to break him someday, and that he will be able to keep his soul pure and his heart kind."

Red's expression became serious-looking again as he promised her, his chesty voice steady and firm: „I'll find them, Elizabeth. Those bastards who are responsible for your situation. I'll hunt them down to a spot where they cannot hide anywhere. You have my word."

Red became silent for a moment, wrapped up in his thoughts. His green eyes blazing with fury.

"Tom was such a bloody idiot. If, for once, he had listened to me.

You have to trust me with this, Elizabeth, he knew exactly how dangerous my, well, ...secret was for everyone who had their hands on. He was not the first one who died getting too close to the truth. I'll bet he somehow got Nik entangled in this mess, too.

Someone had to run the tests...

My god, I would've payed a lot if I had been given the chance to see Tom's face when he realized." His voice was heavy with condemnation.

„Your husband wasn't able to tell you anymore, wasn't he? They were waiting already for you to show up." he muttered hoarsely.

„I will never forgive him that he ran straight home without looking left or right. What would have happened if Agnes had been home that night?

He could submit only a single excuse to his defense. But I have to admit it's a potent one. One I comprehend easily.

He adored you.

I told Tom that love is no excuse for his actions.

But I was wrong. He was as powerless as I had been when ..." his voice trailed off.

„I suppose he really thought to act in your best interest. Otherwise I would have put a bullet in his head myself long ago. He was still around only because of your affection towards him and he knew that. He knew that fact was protecting him. Protecting him from me.

I saw how you looked at him at your wedding. Yes, Elisabeth, I was there. Hiding in the shadows. Watching from afar. Like I always have. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands for ignoring my instructions. For getting too close to you. I was livid and intent to do him in.

But I was not able to do so anymore, after I realized what he meant to you. I didn't want you to detest me back then, although you didn't know me at all back then."

Red hesitated for a long moment trying not to stumble over his own words.

„Even now I know you'll hate me for this mess. You'll blame me for Tom's death. No matter what I will tell you, no matter what will happen from now on.

In your eyes I will be the person responsible.

And in a way I probably am.

The spirits that I've cited, my commands ignore." he quoted from Goethe's „The Sorcerer's Apprentice".

„Forgive me Lizzy. For being this selfish.

I've come to some really insane decisions in my life. To step into yours four years ago was one of those.

I put your world upside down for exactly the same reason Tom had.

Kate warned me, my motives were more about been near you than protecting you. I could have guarded you from a distance also, like I had done all the years before.

But it felt like a good idea back then. It felt right to do so.

And look at us now!" he laughed cynically.

„You think I'm your father and I'm going to snap shortly but surely. Could it get even worse?"

...

„Let's go!"

Red grabbed his fedora Dembe was holding out for him and made a bolt to the front door.

„Are you ok?" the large man asked him when they took the elevator leading them to the underground parking.

„Not in the slightest. And no, I don't wanna tell you right now."

Dembe raised his eyebrow in concern when his friend passed by him, heading towards his car.

* * *

Takoma Park, July 7th 1988

He awoke from his wife's hand slapping at his bare breast.

„Honey, there's someone at the front door." she murmured sleepily.

„Huh? What the hell...what time is it?" he rubbed his eyes.

„It's 0.42 am." she groaned after she checked the watch. „There probably was a housebreaking in the vicinity again and the police is checking the neighborhood." she rolled onto her pillow again.

He heard it too now. Someone was batting at the door. Loudly and persistently.

„Have a look please. So we can go back to sleep."

„Yeah, sure." He slipped into his pajama pants and padded down the stairs barefooted.

He yanked the door open, ready to ask his nocturnal visitor if he had a screw loose somewhere, waking up decent people in the middle of the night.

He was stunned to find Raymond Reddington waiting at his threshold. His car was parked in the driveway. Headlights on, engine running.

„Raymond, what are you doing here so late? Do you have a idea what time it is? It's past midnight, you woke the whole house! Normal people are asleep at this time of night."

„What? Yes, I mean, no...I'm sorry." Reddington's breath was heavy with alcohol. His rumpled uniform looked like he had slept in it for some days.

„You are dead drunk! Call a cab. Go home to your family. Carla and Jennifer surely are waiting for you. Come back when you've slept it off. Tomorrow. At daytime."

He tried to slam the door shut but Reddington prevented him to do so. „Wait! Please. I beg you. I need your help." Raymond braced his hand against the closing door.

He was alerted: „Is it about Carla? Or Jennifer? Are they ok?"

„Yeah, yeah. They are fine. Don't worry. It's not about them. It's about me."

„Of course it is!" he rolled his eyes. „It's always about you."

Reddington ignored the remark.

„I've messed up. The whole thing. I really screwed it up. Oh, my God. I don't know how to get out of it anymore." Raymond palmed his face.

„Uh-huh. Are you talking about your floozie? Did Carla find out about her?"

Reddington's expression got furious within a second. „She is no floozie. Not even slightly. Don't talk about her like this. You have no right to..." His eyes suddenly signaled some realization: „How do you know about her anyway?"

„People are talking." he shrugged, disgusted about the fact that Reddington had just confirmed what his wife suspected.

„I see. And what else are people talking about? Tell me!" his voice suddenly sounded threatening.

„You know I'm not much interested in gossip. Now, what do you want? I'm not sure I can help you with something like this. And I prefer to stay out of other people's business."

„I need your help! Your contacts. I need some information. Classified information to be precise. A name, just that simple. I implore you. That's nothing. You have to save my neck." Reddington was desperate.

„You are kidding."

But the man in naval uniform was dead serious: „Not at all! You are FBI. You have access."

„Ray, though you aren't acting like one right now, you are a high ranked Navy officer. Intelligence, if I remember your bragging correctly. I would be surprised if you didn't have access to anything important yourself. What could I make out that you don't know already?"

„Not this time. They are already suspicious. They are watching me."

He frowned at Reddington's words.

„Who's „they"? I'm sure you're suffering from paranoia. How many drinks did you have? Go home, Ray. You'll see everything will look different in the morning. Shut off your car. I'll call you a cab."

He wanted to turn to get the phone but Reddington grabbed him by his bare shoulder, painfully digging his fingers into his skin. Raymond's bloodshot eyes pierced into his.

„You don't understand the gravity of this situation here. You have no clue what I've gotten into. I fucking need this name. I beg you. I'm your brother-in-law. I was witness to your marriage. I'm family, goddamned!"

He stared at his opposite in bewilderment before he shook of Reddington's grip.

He was wide awake by now.

„You are actually serious! You really want me to abuse my FBI privileges to get you some information which are underlying secrecy restrictions! You are definitely more screwed up than I thought."

„Is this a yes?

„It's a no, Raymond. A clear no. Look, I don't know what this is all about but I definitely won't compromise my job for it. Nor my reputation.

And now I'm asking you, politely, please back off. Leave me alone. And don't you dare to bother me again with this shit. Got that?"

Reddington slowly nodded.

„Yeah, you damned prick, I got it. You still believe playing after the rules will prevent you from getting fucked. You are such a perfect fool." he laughed hoarsely.

„Good night, you son of a bitch. I'm sure you'll sleep like a baby."

With that he stumbled towards his car, slamming the door shut and left the driveway with squealing tires.

The lights went on in the house next door. Reddington's departure had aroused the neighbors.

He stood motionless for quite a while before he slowly closed the front door, shaking his head in disbelief.

His wife stepped out of the dark hallway, her facial expression was anxious. She had clenched the collar of her robe, holding it close.

„How much did you hear?" he asked her.

„Enough to be worried. He scared the shit out of me. Honey, your sister married a moron."

* * *

„Raymond!"

„Yes?"

Red lifted his eyes to Dembe who gazed down on him puzzled, holding the rear door open for him.

„We are here. The Post Office."

„Ok." Red got out of the Mercedes.

Dembe held him back, putting his big hand on his shoulder. „What's wrong with you?"

„Nothing. I had to think about something."

Dembe bent his head questioningly.

„How to silence the ghosts of the past."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Restart

„1995. An abortive raid on one of BAC's branches in Baltimore.

A bomb attack on an NGO in Buenos Aires, March 1999. 23 injured.

The kidnapping of a millionaire's 10-year-old near Stockholm, 2002, the ransom paid was about 12 million dollars.

And - my personal favorite - the theft of a highly valuable matchless piece of king Atahualpa's crown jewelry from an exhibition of Inca artifacts in Lima, 2004."

Red gestured towards the stack of pictures and documents displayed on the huge monitors across Aram's desk.

„All these incidents were solved by authorities in charge, the backers responsible got impeached and finally convicted." Red continued.

„I don't see any actual case in this." Donald was bored.

„Look closely, Donald, focus!" Red approached the younger man until he stood directly by his side. "All of them share even more commonalities as it appears after a first brief view.

First of all there are video surveillance tapes for each instance. By accident every single one of said crimes was videotaped. At least partly.

Much required and sufficient proof at every penal procedure that got the bad boys behind bars. But no one noticed the even more crucial detail because there were several authorities responsible, four different countries, four different legal systems.

No one ever compared the tapes."

„But you did." Ressler was not convinced yet.

„This was not necessary. I knew it anyway."

„You bet." Ressler rolled his eyes.

Aram blew up said CCTV footages visible for everyone in the room with a few mouse clicks and started the play-back simultaneously.

The members of the task force tried to examine every detail. All eyes were riveted to four windows on the screen.

„There! This man, background, suit, glasses, half-bald head. He was at two locations at least, Sweden and Lima." Samar noticed first, pointing towards the matching feeds.

„He was in Baltimore also. Bottom edge. Barely visible." Harold got it.

Aram stopped said three feeds and displayed the frames.

The images where grainy and mostly black and white but all of them undisputedly showed the same man Navabi had described before.

„Good catch. The same guy indeed. I wouldn't have noticed him at all." Ressler was impressed.

„Exactly Donald. Barley no one notices him. He is completely average. Invisible. You wouldn't even recognize him if he fell onto your feet. He melds with the background. Staying patiently on the sidelines, hugging the wall.

And that being so he became the most successful dealer of information among current criminal communities. His business is prospering.

No one cares what is said in his presence, no one thinks he's a threat. No one notice he's even present. If you can afford his services - there's nothing he wouldn't find out when he mingles with the crowd.

I know him by the name Frank Gibbs, but he calls himself The Professor."

„Well, he definitely somehow looks like one, he reminds me of my maths teacher in highschool." Aram observed the blurry images on his screen. „Aaand - I found him on tape number 4. Buenos Aires." Agent Mojtabai cheerfully hit a key on his console and the last feed froze displaying the most detailed image yet. It showed a man in his late fifties, averagely build who faced the camera directly. His dark watchful eyes indicated a highly sharp intellect.

„Good work, Aram!" Cooper was pleased.

„Surly Gibbs was present at a lot more occasions but he was more lucky by then as there was no monitoring system in situ.

I don't think he was responsible for strategy and performance in the first place. Or even gave the order.

Gibbs deals with information and information only. Who? When? Where? What? Why?" Red counted on his fingers.

„Who is going to do what when and where. Or has. No more, no less. And if he tries hard he will tell you even why.

In all likelihood he was hired for finding the missing information required - for all of that." He pointed towards the flat screens. „Obviously he has no preferences. No distinct patterns. He accepts orders which gain his attention. Art theft, gunrunning, abduction, blackmailing...pick one!"

„Do you know him in person?" Harold was suspicious.

„Our ways have crossed one time or another." Red admitted.

„So it's not that we are supposed find him for you?"

„Harold! I'm crestfallen. What do you take me for?" Red performed the shaken one most convincingly, looking deeply offended.

„I came here today to furnish you the next Blacklister. A mighty interesting one, to put it this way. Consider what you may come to know from him. You will be capable of harvesting one or two pretty big fish if you'll make him talk and he'll share his knowledge. Everyone wants what's in his head!"

„That's exactly why I'm doubting your intentions, Reddington. That's why I think you will benefit from his knowledge more than we ever will. That's why I think you'll eventually want him for yourself. Or that what's in his head." Cooper quoted frowning.

„What has he learned that you're anxious to know?"

„I assure you that I'm currently not interested in anything that came to his ears. My proposition was to give you someone who counts a big deal. To get Panabaker and the director off your back. To catch up the last three months - at least a bit.

But I'm flogging a dead horse here. Dembe, we'd better be off now."

Red grabbed his fedora off Aram's desk.

„Ok, wait." Cooper held up his large hands pacifying. „You can't blame me for being suspicious after all our previous...experience." Harold was searching for the right words.

„But - by all means- I don't want us to have an unsuccessful restart also. For that to happen our work here is too important."

The tension was palpable for everyone present in the room. Aram Mojtabai held his breath, swallowing hard.

„I agree." Red leisurely nodded his assent.

„And you can't blame me for deriving some benefits from one or two villains on my list. Or try to do so.

As I told you before: I have no interest in cases I have no interest in."

„I'm afraid we have to take this for granted." Cooper sighed. „Whether we like it or not." He paused a second before he continued deliberately: „Now we have settled this question...for now...may we pick up where we left off before?"

All eyes were turned towards Reddington who slowly put his hat back to its former spot on the desk.

„All right, Harold. I got your point." Reds anger vanished slowly.

„What else do you want to know?"

„Do you harbor any suspicion about what Gibbs is up to? What his next assignment might be about? Whether there's one at all?"

Navabi first pulled herself together again.

„There are rumors that he was employed by a software company not long ago. CyTec Industries. They make their money with custom-tailored computer programs, I was told. I have no clue in those issues." Red shrugged.

„CyTec? Isn't that the company that devised the digital control on the new Army tank? They acquire a lot of orders from DoD." Ressler asked, arms placed on his hips.

„Ressler, Mojtabai - request all files to that cases. Contact Interpol for more specific details. Look for similarities. Everything that could tell us what he's up to or he has had a role in. Especially on who's payroll he is at the moment. Make out if he has been held for something somewhere. Even it was just an outstanding ticket. Anything that could help us track him down.

Navabi, go to see CyTec's safety representative. Figure out what they are working on that could be valuable for Gibbs. Ascertain if Reddington's information is correct.

If this is the case we have to brief Panabaker right off."

„Reddington, a word." Cooper headed towards the stairs leading to his office.

He closed his office door deliberately after he and Red had entered.

„I wanted to serve notice on you that Agent Navabi approved your yesterday's offer. She did not have to be persuaded into it really. She will officiate as our go-between. You are officially her C.I. now until...new developments emerge.

Cooper tried to avoid the „Elizabeth Keen issue" and sat down before he continued:

„Thank you for reconsidering. I genuinely appreciate your decision. Surely, we had some throwbacks and we had our differences within the last four years but overall we have achieved a lot more than I expected in the beginning."

„Becoming sloppy now, Harold? Are you trying to tell me you missed me?"

Red clasped his hands behind his back as he turned towards the window, watching the bustling activity downstairs.

„Let's put it this way: You get used to each other after a while." Cooper felt caught.

„Yeah."

Harold cleared his throat: „Talking about getting used to after a while...there's something that has been bothering me for more than four years now. Since the day the alarms went off when the security system registered your name.

Since I got the call about Raymond Reddington, who just had walked into..."

„What's the question, Harold?" Red interrupted.

„Why me? Why did you choose me of all people. There had been a good many others more powerful, more high-ranked representatives. What was it that led you to me?"

„I'm sure there were. But I also think you already know the answer to your question."

„If I did, I wouldn't ask."

„I liked the thought of FBI's golden boy finishing the task that started 30 years ago. There are not many left who where in it from the beginning.

You have had the most experience with...me."

„I doubt that. I had never met you before. Ok, I was somewhat involved in that rescue operation years ago which extricated you from Seaduke's captivity.

But I was a rookie back then, not much more than a runner. The big boys ordered what to do and achieved all the glory.

And unlike Ressler I was never a member of the „Reddington-task-force".

Cooper leant forward, staring quizzically at Reddington who turned around slowly, facing him.

„You're lying Harold or you indeed forgot about it, which is extremely doubtful."

Cooper's eyes widened visibly when he realized what his opposite was talking about. „You can't know about that. Impossible. Only a handful of people knew about it. Utmost secrecy. As far as I know the orders where issued straight from Secretary of Defense."

„And yet I know. Everything that happened since that ... eventful summer of '88 led us where we are right now. And everything that is supposed to happen will due to it."

Cooper leant back again, folding his hands on his lap. „Fortunately I was deducted at the turn of the year and reassigned with another operation. Heard about the rest of the story by office grapevine only. It must have been a terrible disaster."

„You don't say!"

Both men fell silent, peering hard at each other. Red asked himself if he had given away too much. Cooper was no dork for sure.

But Harold was the first one to look away.

„I suggest we shouldn't stir up old stories. Let's face the presence. Gibbs. Agent Navabi will contact you when we got the first results."

„Sure. Good bye, Harold."

...

„Raymond, assistant director Cooper's suspicion seemed quite reasonable. Is there really nothing you want to learn from „The Professor"? Maybe he received word about the bones and their whereabouts?"

Dembe steered the black Mercedes through the heavy afternoon traffic.

„He isn't aware of the bones and I won't tell him. Too many people already know about the damn suitcase anyway. Or better now the duffel bag. I'm not going to drag one more poor soul into it. I value Frank too much for this.

And yes, I have no interest in anything he received word or learned about.

I'm not interested what he had found out in the past but what he can still find out for me in the future. I need Cooper's help to site Gibbs where I need him right now."

Dembe frowned. „So, you are up to something? Seems that Cooper wasn't that mistaken after all."

„I am. So far, everything is going according to plan."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Visitors

„So far, everything is going according to plan."

Compared to the events that took place all this years ago Red's clear statement was non-exaggerated.

His earlier debate with Cooper had drawn him deep down into the realm of his painful memories again.

The day it all started, his daughters birthday. The day his world began to fall apart.

* * *

 **Takoma Park, July 20th. 1988**

„Can't you keep still please? Both heels at the wall, can't mark it correctly otherwise. Straighten your head." His tongue was caught between his lips in concentration as he penciled a line just about the parting of her wild blonde locks.

„Daaad, finally ready now?" His daughter was eager to look at it.

„Yeah, ready. Step aside. Wow, look at that! It has to be about a foot."

His daughter rolled her eyes. „You overplay every time."

He chuckled cheerfully: „Maybe a little."

She took the pencil out of his hand and dated the top line at the wall of her room. The one he just had drawn.

July 20th 1988.

It was obviously quite a bit above the other marks they did all the years before.

My goodness, they grow so fast.

„Only a few weeks and you'll catch up to your mother."

„And to you." she grinned up to him.

He took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. „Can't wait! Once again, my pretty big girl, happy birthday."

„Daaaad, you're embarrassing."

„I know." he sighed and released her slowly. „Let's find out how your mother is doing with your cake and if she needs any help. Shall we? Your guests will be here shortly."

„Ok." She rumbled down the stairs to the kitchen. „Dad, are you coming?"

The house was filled with life a few hours later. A mob of different aged children running about the place while the grownups chattered noisily, enjoying coffee and cake.

The last visitors showing up were Carla and Jennifer.

„Hi girls! You're late. I hope there's some birthday cake left." he teased them when he opened the door and let them in.

„Sorry, folks, I was held up. Jen, why don't you look for the birthday girl and hand her your present. And check if there's some cake left." Carla wanted to sound jolly and good-tempered but he noticed her puffy eyes and her tired appearance instantly.

Jennifer was already on her way to the screaming bunch of kids welcoming the new visitor.

„You look like shit." He gave her a brief hug, pecking her forehead in compassion.

„A word from you and I'll beat the daylights out of him."

„Thanks, I may take you up on it some time." she smiled agonizingly.

„Come in, want something to drink? I think there's some punch left for us."

The yeasty afternoon passed fast and it finally got somewhat quieter with the first guests leaving. The beginning evening promised to be even more pleasant, the summer heat consistently decreasing.

The doorbell broke into the cheerful atmosphere.

„I'm going!" his daughter jumped to her feet and stormed by him towards the hallway, eager to welcome a surprising and delayed congratulator.

She was back moments later, disappointment written all over her face.

„It's for you, Dad."

„Huh? I don't expect anybody." He frowned while he lifted himself off the comfortable sunbed in the garden.

Two handsome and very young men awaited him at his doorstep. Both dressed in black off-the-peg suits and black ties, their gaze sober and reserved. He knew this had to be work related and hoped his vacation was not canceled any second.

He closed the front door behind himself to avoid unwanted listeners.

„Gentlemen, what is leading you here on this beautiful evening. Wasn't it end of the work day already?"

„Unfortunately not, Agent. And it's gonna be a long night." The older one flipped him a badge. DIA. Defense Intelligence Agency. „We are sorry to trouble you at home. We didn't know you had guests.

We are leaving in a moment, but we were ordered to make sure you'll receive this." The young man reached inside his jacket, pulling out a white envelope with his name on it and handed it over.

The sender identification showed a seal. Department of Defense.

„What's this about?" he asked perplexed „I'm on vacation. Still ten days left."

„I'm sorry, Sir. We don't know any details. We had been sent here solely to serve you this summons. Make sure you'll be on time tomorrow morning, 8:00! Pack everything necessary for some days. We'll pick you up. Good evening, Sir." Both men turned on their heels and headed towards a black limousine with government registration plates.

They left him staring at the crisp white cover, the bright colors of the emblem emitting something threatening.

He turned and twisted the letter in his hands, anxious to open it. What on earth was this about? His work never got him even near to purpose of national defense. He was responsible for white-collar crimes mostly. Ok, he started his career with some intelligence operations. Insignificant ones, appropriate to a freshman. Years ago.

FBI was operating under the jurisdiction of the Department of Justice. What could DoD want from him at all?

Finally he took a heart and ripped the envelope open. It contained a neatly folded single sheet. He read nervously: with permission of authority in charge ...

subtracted from all operations ...

all leave canceled for an indefinite period ... concerning national safety issues ... investigating possible case of treason ... ordered to report for duty ... sworn to secrecy.

The letter finalized with the possible consequences for refusing this order and featured the autograph signature of the Secretary of Defense in person.

Fucking hell!

He really learned nothing specific from this lines, worded in general terms. He still had no clue how he could be helpful concerning matters of national security but at this time tomorrow he would know a lot more.

„Honey, why do you take you so long?"

His wife had come after him as he didn't come back for some minutes.

She noticed his confused expression. „What's wrong?" she stepped closer, touching his arm.

He folded the paper, shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans. „Nothing to worry about." he lied. „I have to leave tomorrow morning. Duty calls."

She draw back her hand.

„What? Can't be! You are on vacation! The first time in months."

„Canceled." he shrugged „I'm sorry, sweetheart."

„How long?"

„I really don't know. A few days for sure. Maybe more."

„Great! Why can't you be a teacher or something like that." she was fuming. „I'm feeling like a single mother more and more."

„Hey, that's unfair. You knew what I did for living when you decided to marry me. Please, I don't wanna fight with you. Especially not today and not about my job. Ok?" He gave her his most charming look, trying to calm her down. He failed.

„No. No, it's not ok. I really was looking forward spending some time with you. That sucks!" she briskly returned to their guests, leaving him alone with his confusing thoughts.

He sighed heavily and headed for the bedroom, getting ready to pack his stuff.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Stories

CyTecs' chief of security was a small perky man who entered the modern conference room with a whole bunch of self-confidence.

„You wanted to meet? Miss..."

„Agent Navabi. FBI. Thanks for your cooperation."

„Sure. You mentioned some security issues earlier on the phone. How can I help?"

„Do you recognize this man?" Samar held up a printout of Frank Gibbs' face, an improved screenshot hard copy.

„Should I?"

„My sources say he was employed by your company about 3 weeks ago."

The man sighed irritated, taking the photo from Samar's extended hand before he glanced at it briefly: „Do you have an idea how many people enter and leave this building every day?

We have 500 employees - at the minimum. Cleaners up to physicists. Secretaries to engineers. On top of that dozens of clients and advisers, industry and services, walking in and out from 9 to 5. It's like a damn henhouse. You're quite optimistic, believing I know every face instantly on a pic held under my nose." He smirked provoking.

„Have another look." Samar insisted.

„He seems quite...normal." The man shrugged coolly.

„Yes, I've heard this before." Samar noticeably became more impatiently.

„Based on the business you're doing here I'm certain you have regular safety checks on everyone who passes the access controls. What about background checks on new staff?"

„Of course, the regulations are strict and clear. We deal with classified matters on a regular basis. Do you mean to suggest we have a security breach somewhere - concerning this guy?" he waggled the picture, first cracks appeared in his confidence.

„Very likely, yes. We assume his name is Frank Gibbs but we're not sure if he used an alias in his application for a job here. Nor which job he competed for."

„That's not really much you know at all, huh? Beyond that we are proud to declare that no one was able to slip by our security precautions ever. At least not since I am responsible. Why should it be different this time?"

„Our source is reliable. Usually."

The security chief weighed his options carefully.

„Ok, Miss ..."

„Agent Navabi."

„Ok, Miss Navabi, suggestion following to this...I keep the pic and look for a match in our personnel data. How can I get a hold on you about the results?"

...

„Can you see the dog, Agnes? Where did he hide? There?" Red pointed at the illustrations of a big brown and white cow in the meadow, looking out from behind a large apple tree. The girl on his lap giggled and shook her small head. „No? Umm... Can you help me? Can't find him." He studied the picture-book's large page helplessly.

Agnes giggled even more before she put her tiny finger onto the image of a huge Saint Bernhard dog located behind the front tire of a farm tractor.

„Uh, yes, here he is. He's really big. How could I've missed him?" Red smirked.

The girl huddled up against his chest and rubbed her eyes.

„You are right, Agnes. Time for a nap. Care if I join you? We can stay right here if you want." he smiled down on her tired face, stoking her head tenderly.

„This armchair is cozy and big enough for both of us."

„Raymond, agents Navabi and Mojtabai are here to see you." Dembe's large form appeared in the doorframe leading to the parlor Red and Agnes were sitting in together. „Should I tell them to return another time?"

„No, it's ok. Send them in."

He lifted the girl from his lap and put her down on her feet gently. „Unfortunately my nap has to wait a little longer, princess. Dembe, please take her to Rosa, she's tired."

Dembe reached out for Agnes to accompany the girl to her nanny. But it was definitely not her intention to comply Dembe's unspoken request when finally something interesting was about to happen. New people.

Agnes hid behind Red's leg, clutching her fingers in the expensive fabric of his slacks. Cautiously peeping out from her exclusive hideaway from time to time.

„It would seem you two get along pretty well, doesn't it?" Aram had entered the room following Samar upon her heels.

„We're getting used to each other slowly but surely." Red stated. „What's your situation?"

„Getting used to each other slowly but surely." Samar answered dead-serious, leaving Aram dumbfounded staring at her.

An amused smile tugged on the corners of Red's mouth. „I'm glad to hear that.

Isn't she adorable, Agent Mojtabai? You are a lucky man!"

„Guess so." Aram felt slightly offended.

„We wanted to discuss our results so far. Maybe you can make out more behind this." Samar got straight to the point as usually while Red turned and lifted Agnes to his arms.

Aram made a few steps towards them.

„Hi beautiful. How are you doing?" he smiled at the infant. Agnes held Aram's friendly gaze for some seconds with her big brown eyes, the hint of a coy smile on her lips, before she buried her face in Red's shirt.

„Please excuse me for a moment." Red apologized, leaving the room.

„Must have spent all of my charm on you!" Aram smirked „Doesn't work on brunettes anymore."

„It's somehow odd to watch him with a child around."

„Really? I think he handles her quite well"

„That's exactly what I'm talking about."

When Red returned a few minutes later he was alone. „I apologize for keeping you waiting but she shouldn't get anything what we're up talking about."

„How is she coping with ... er ... the new situation?" Aram asked sympathetically.

„Surprisingly better than I expected. But she hardly talks. Much less than it would be normal at her age."

Both visitors appeared affected by Reddington's statement.

„But you didn't come here to chat about Liz' daughter. I'm listening." Red ended their awkward silence. He straightened his vest before he sat down on the armchair again, curious to learn what Samar and Aram had made out.

Agent Mojtabaj cleared his throat: „Ok, we found out a good deal about our guy. Until 1994 his past life is no secret at all. Frank Gibbs is in fact his real name, born 1959 in Little Rock, Arkansas. Moved to Florida post-graduate. No salient events until he turned 30. Married, children, suburban home, permanent appointment. Straight. Then - 1990 - his company was involved in some sort of financial scandal. Suspected money-laundering. It leaked out that they were into mafia business up to their throats. Gibbs was a member of the accounts department, the cooked books got his attention. He called on to the police, gave a testimony against his employer. His knowledge helped to initiate proceedings against his firm and some leading figures of organized crime at the east coast."

„Let me guess. No one was ever sentenced." Red suspected.

„Worse. Two weeks prior to commencement of proceedings Gibbs' family died. Criminal investigations assumed they accidentally came across a gang shooting. Police and FBI didn't join the dots. Or didn't want to see a causal link. Of course Gibbs insisted on this being a act of revenge or intimidation. No one cared. The investigations were terminated after a few months.

The proceedings he should give testimony on were dropped. The only one who got convicted was Gibbs himself, for manipulating the books. Four years FCI Jesup. Got out after two and a half.

Free downfall after his discharge.

Tried to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Got caught two times drinking and driving. He was close to go to jail again.

Then he suddenly abandoned his accommodation and was swallowed up by the earth. His parole officer reported him missing early 1994. No one ever heard of him again. I spoke to the officer on the phone. He assumed Gibbs had put an end to his miserable life somewhere.

His trace vanishes at that point until you put us back on two days ago. Interpol has some mentions of his nickname „The Professor" in their files related to a handful occurrences but was never able to put a finger on it."

Aram finally paused, inhaling deeply

„What a terrible and sad story."

„It's not a story. It's one man's life."

„His family's death got him to lose track completely. Must have been an easy target for the wrong people to drag him into something." Aram presumed.

„Maybe. Anything else?"

Samar nodded: „CyTec's head of security called me yesterday. They found Gibbs in their staff database. You were right. He applied for a job a month ago. Merchandise purchase. Easy for him to gather information about anything what is on CyTec's schedule right now. He only has to put two and two together. They asked what to do. Cooper suggested to leave him until we know what he's looking for exactly."

„Sounds reasonable."

„Any assumptions what he's after actually?" Samar was sure Reddington was in the know.

„Not a hunch. I don't know much about this software stuff. But I understand that CyTec is - among other - engineering digital weapon systems. He's looking for something his client is determined to pay a lot of money for and is supposed to make even more when he got what he wants. Search for anything that would be highly valuable to resale."

„Military related?"

„Not necessarily but very likely. Gibbs main attribute was no one knew he was around. That's different now and your decisive advantage. He will lead you to his task himself. It's just a question of days, hours maybe. Tap his computer. Note the files he's requesting."

„This has already been initiated." Samar declared.

„Good. Let me know when you have him."

„I'm still wondering how he passed the security clearance. I checked them. They are gapless."

„Maybe he had help."

Agent Navabi raised a brow: „Must've been."

Red rose from his comfortable seat. „If that's all for now..."

„Mr. Reddington, since we're here, uh, I wanted to ask if it's possible to see Liz. Just briefly. Just to say hello."

„No. That's not possible. I'm sorry" the sound of Red's voice left no space for further discussion.

„Too bad. Maybe next time." Aram didn't want to give up so easily.

„We get in touch if something new arises. Good bye, Reddington." Samar had understood that this conversation came to an end.

Red nodded his farewell: „Agent Navabi, Aram. Until next time."

Dembe stepped out of his waiting position „I'll walk you out." he offered.

He returned to Red a few moments later.

„Crespin called. No real news on this Navarro guy. He took some members of the syndicate to task. No one has a clue who his client could be. The one we saw at the farmhouse. He will look about for other sources."

„Thank you."

„Raymond?"

„Yes?"

„Don't you have concerns about the case? To raise their suspicion? Gibbs' story appears too close to your own. You really spell it out for them."

Red stifled a laugh „They are clueless. My goodness, I gave them Devry. Gregory Devry, you remember? The imposter story. They swallowed it unhesitatingly." he shook his head in disbelief. „They only see what they want to. As everyone does. That's why I'm able to do what I do. For almost thirty years now."

„I don't like this nevertheless. Don't get too careless. I don't have to tell you what will happen if they figure it out."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Doubts

God, he was so tired.

This permanent pondering was exhaustive as hell but he couldn't stop it. The lack of sleep did its part.

His eyes were burning like fire and he had difficulties to stay focused.

„You're growing old." Red said to himself. There was a time he had no trouble at all to stay awake for days. But there also was a time he didn't have to deal with these increasing number of emotional entanglements simultaneously. He was still a human being after all.

„Even Raymond Reddington has his limits." he smirked cynically to himself.

After Samar and Aram had kept him from his catnap with Agnes he briefly thought about falling onto the soft bedding in his room and never leave it until tomorrow morning. But he abandoned this idea quickly and headed for Liz' room instead.

Red sat down in his light-toned leather chair at Liz' bedside and reached for her hand. His head fell on the back rest and he closed his weary eyes.

„Just a minute." he thought to himself. „Shut your eyes for just a minute."

...

The knock at the door made him jump slightly. Red checked his watch. Too early for Dembe to return. He hesitantly made his way to the door of his rundown accommodation, pulling out his gun from his waistband. It knocked again before he could spy through the peephole.

Elizabeth.

Even the magnifier's deformed perspective told him she was pissed.

A lot.

Red undid the locks of the door to his motel room and opened it.

„You lied to me." Entering she shoved a crinkled sheet of paper in his hand. She strode a few steps into the room and turned to face him. She waited until he closed the door.

„You've gotta be fucking kidding me!"

Liz was in a rage. „What the hell is this?"

He unfolded the paper. A lot of numbers and percentage points. References to sample-taking.

A DNA test.

„Paternity practically proven" - sincerely, unreadable signature.

„You said...you swore we are not related! How could you be so careless? Even though you assumed that we are not you should have had eliminated all doubts."

Liz came unglued entirely. She plunked down onto the bed and palmed her face.

„I've had no doubts. Never. There was no reason for having even the shadow of a doubt. If you know what I mean." Red swallowed hard.

„Yeah, you told me before you never have had ... a thing ... with my mother. What is this then?" She pointed towards the test in Red's hand outrageously. „A fake? A joke? Thanks, a real knee-slapper."

He sat down beside her, soothingly putting an arm around her trembling shoulders and pulling her softly towards himself.

„I don't know what this is, Elizabeth, and where it comes from. But I know this: the blood on this sample is not mine." He paused a second to consider how to express his sentiments properly.

„Look, when I suggested to .. well, you know ... it was dead certain not because of any doubts regarding to this." He held up the test results in front of them like a disgusting insect.

He brushed her temple with his lips. „I've never lied to you. You know that." His deep voice rumbled though her body, touching her deeply.

„Yeah, I know." Liz finally took a breath. „I'm sorry. This caught me red-handed. Can you imagine how shocked I was? After what happened while we..." Her voice trailed off. She took the piece of paper out of his hand and stared at it. „I'm sorry."

„It's ok. And yes, I can imagine what a shock this must have been. After all what happened the last few months I don't blame you for not trusting me. I wouldn't trust myself either." He tried to manage a smirk. „Who gave it to you anyway? Kate?"

„Cooper. He said he hoped I'll finally find the answers I'm looking for."

„I see." Red rose from his spot by her side. „I thought you found the answers quite a while ago. Before we agreed..."

„We, Raymond, WE didn't agree on anything. You did. You decided for both of us."

„I was correct, wasn't I?" Red pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his pants.

„Probably. But it was never your decision to make ... on your own."

„Believe me, there was no one who was more agonized about that than myself."

Red turned towards the mini-bar for something to drink. He didn't like how the conversation was developing at all.

„But it was better this way." He rummaged around with the little bottles in the fridge. „God beware you couldn't have fallen back in the arms of your precious Tom, whom you were so thankful for saving your ass. Him!" he snorted. His anger crept up his spine. Damned, there had to be some stronger stuff but cherry brandy. „It somehow got easier for me after you scooted with him, leaving me behind believing you were dead." It was Red's turn to talk himself into a rage now. „And it got almost bearable when I found out you were not. When I found out you screwed me." Ah, a bottle of vodka. This had to do it. He triumphantly turned back to Liz, ready to open the bottle cap.

Red didn't see it coming.

Her resounding slap hit him straight across his cheek.

The small-sized bottle clattered on the floor with a thud. He blinked repeatedly and found her starring at him, her face only inches away from his own.

Red opened his mouth but was lost on words, her sapphire eyes blazing with disappointment and fury.

He reacted on what came first to his flabbergasted mind.

He grabbed the back of her head and crushed his lips on hers.

He braced himself for another slap on his burning cheek. But it never happened.

Instead he felt Liz' warm hands on his neck, responding eagerly to his assault.

She parted her lips willingly, meeting his demanding one. Their tongues entangled in a sensual battle for dominance. He entwined her waist, pulling her close in to his embrace and moaned with pleasure as he felt her body pressing into his. Red's hands found the tight mounds of her bottom and he hold her in place, rubbing his groin at her belly without restraint. It did little to ease the ache.

This woman was his ruin. But according to his actual situation it couldn't get much worse anyway. He literally was ruined. So why should he care about what was right and what was wrong just now? It felt gorgeous to have her in his arms. This was all that was relevant at the moment. Period.

Liz fumbled with the buttons of his shirt while he stripped off her jacket and yanked her top out of her waistband impatiently.

Red felt her hands roaming around his torso when she finally found access to his heated skin.

He tugged her top off her upper body, pushing her a few steps towards the bed unresistingly.

Better yet, Liz didn't hesitate to fall onto the soft cushion with him

He couldn't wait to touch her breasts, kissing his way to her nipples, causing them to erect fully under his constant attentiveness.

He craved to feel her soft tights enfolding his hips the moment he'll finally enter her and he yearned for the sensation of her climaxing around him when they'll reach the point of no return together.

„Lizzy." He panted, brushing some blonde strands of hair out of her reddened face.

Fuck!

Something was terrible wrong here!

... _blonde?._...

Red's eyes snapped open. His breathing was shallow. Caught somewhere in the heavy fog between dream and reality he was momentarily disoriented.

Red needed his time until he remembered where he was and what was on his mind before he had dozed off.

At home. Liz' room. The duffel bag. Frank. His plan.

He noticed that his palm cupped his private parts, his heavy erection straining the zipper of his pants almost painfully.

Withdrawing his hand he tried to force his body to give in. The effort of will completely in vain.

With a stifled groan he rushed towards the next bathroom and locked the door.

Red unfastened his leather belt and undid the fly button of his slacks. Yanking at his zipper he pulled down his suit pants together with his boxers.

He gave a moan when his fingers wrapped around his rigid member. He was rock hard. His cockhead already coated with lucent driblet of pre-cum. Not surprisingly after every nerve tickled with an odd feeling after he had dreamed of her ... Again ...

In truth, of course, it had happened quite differently. He remembered very well when Liz embraced him, welcoming him to her „family". It had been absolutely sickening.

His mind was playing tricks on him, struggling badly with the conflict between desire and reality.

Red began to stroke himself slowly but resolutely, trying to center on his visions of her. Her, his Lizzy.

 _How would it feel to sense her small feminine fingers on himself? Would she allow him to palm her hand and show her how he liked to be touched?_

He tightened his grasp, teasing his thick crown alternately with his quickening stokes.

 _Finally get it, old fool! You'll never know because it will never happen._

A deep growl escaped his throat, half out of frustration, half out of his craving for release from his powerful arousal.

Red tightened his fingers around his stiffen flesh even more, pumping feverishly. His hips began to rock with the increasing rhythm of his hand.

The man's breath came in short gasps as he felt the pressure in his groin growing, his climax building up rapidly.

Red's eyes fell shut, evoking visions from his former dream. Her breasts pressing into his chest. His hands palming her perfect little butt.

And Lizzy with blonde hair.

M _an, she looked stunning that time, little more than two years ago._

 _And they where so close and intimate. Together for months, only the two of them._

He grabbed a Kleenex from the spender just in time and tried to suppress his ecstatic moan when the first stream exploded from his oversensitive cock head.

His thighs trembled visibly with every wave of relief, sweeping over him one after another, decreasing only slowly until he had to support himself on the vanity.

Holy shit, this was intense.

Red sat down on the toilet-seat, still panting for breath and rested his head on his palms.

The physical relief allowed some space to let his mind wander.

Yes, they were close that time.

Like never before and for sure never after their hide-and-seek.

Despite the circumstances they really had shared something special. Smiling weakly he remembered some nights talking and telling stories until dawn. And above all, Lizzy had been finally able to trust him.

This had to be the reason Liz always turns up with dyed hair in his dreams since then.

Even at that bizarre incident at Sharon.

It was kind of weird.

Red tried to recall what exactly had gone wrong after he had picked her up from detention that night.

Of course Tom had happened. And she found out about her pregnancy after she got beaten-up by this son of a bitch on the parking lot.

Where the hell had his man been anyway that day? He always watches over her. An unforgivable slip. Something that ordinarily wasn't his method.

Had he gotten distracted too much from the Shell Island meeting?

He tried hard but couldn't remember.

And, worse still, he couldn't make out why she so suddenly lost her confidence in him, sich he had worked hard for to earn it.

He angled his burner out of the pockets of his pants which were still wrapped around his ankles.

He flipped it open and dialed a number.

The call was answered immediately.

„It's me. We have to talk."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Check

...two days later...

Paris had surpassed himself again.

Red and Dembe were close to loosen their belts, giving their filled stomachs more urgently needed space. Red praised his decision to employ the skilled cook more every day.

„Let's call it a day! The only thing to complete this perfect evening would be one or two Macallan and a Cuban." Red stated satisfied.

„What can I get you since you are a non-drinker and a non-smoker."

„The chessboard."

„Oh please, not tonight. I can barely move."

„You only have to move the chessmen. Get your stuff, I will prepare our match. It's been weeks since we played together." Dembe insisted.

„I know. I'm sorry. I haven't been a real enjoyable companion for some time, have I?" Red sighed. „All right, you've convinced me."

Dembe was pleased visibly.

Red handed the chess set to his friend before he stepped towards the bar, bringing along a crystal bottle and one of his cigars as he returned to his armchair. While he poured himself a glass and lit up the Cuban with great relish, Dembe had finished his preparations and held out both fists.

„Which one?"

„Left."

Black.

Dembe chose a classic. White pawn, English opening. Red moved his king's pawn in return and felt himself more relaxed the longer the match continued. He was thankful Dembe had persuaded him into a game. He really had missed that and he had fun although - after the sixth move - he already knew he would loose again.

After an hour, Tony interrupted their far advanced match with a slight cough.

„I'm sorry boss, there's a Harold Cooper guy at the door, waiting to see you."

„Great. It was such a pleasant evening until now." Red put down his glass a little too heavily.

„We'll finish our match just a little later. This has to be important. Why else should he show up this late?

Besides ... you're losing anyway." Dembe smiled at his friend and occupied his familiar spot at the entrance from where he could survey everything.

„Harold. This better be really important." Red greeted his late visitor sullenly.

„Dembe. Reddington. Good evening to you too. Am I intruding?"

„Not more than usually. Drink?"

„Yes, thank you. I'll have the same you are having."

While Red poured Harold some of his Macallan, Cooper noticed the chessboard on the table. Some playing pieces already set aside.

„I'm sorry to interrupt your chess match but you wanted to be informed once we obtained a warrant for Frank Gibbs. I thought I'd deliver this news in person. You chose quite a modest apartment by the way." Copper stated ironically after he had a look around.

„Did you find out about his intentions?" Red handed him the glass.

„We think he was after a control mechanism CyTec is developing for an automobile group. Self-driving cars. A booming future market. He or his client could have made millions by selling it to business rivals. We got the judge to follow our arguments, signing the detention order."

Cooper stepped closer to the table, having a close look.

„Black or white, Reddington?"

„Black. You play?"

„Not for years, unfortunately. But there's still enough left of my analytical skill to forecast you're losing. Checkmate within eight moves."

Harold took the beaten ebony bishop in his large hand and inspected it in detail.

„First you position your chessmen. You make out your opponents tactics and map out a strategy. Then you try to take off your opponents tokens one by one, leaving the warring king exposed and backed into a corner just before you strike the final blow. Checkmate.

The game of kings. And yet the king is a poor fellow, barely able to move. It's his queen who makes the difference. His strongest and most powerful subject.

Of course - if need be - one or two pawns has to be sacrificed on your way."

„You wanted to tell me about Gibbs, Harold, I know the ropes." Red caught a glimpse at Dembe's concerned frown.

„Most certainly you do."

Cooper replaced the bishop. „We decided to come for him tomorrow morning, shortly after he will have clocked in. That way we'll be able to take the evidence with us in unison." He took a sip of his drink before he continued: „Navabi told me you were briefed about Frank Gibbs personal history. What do you think it was that caused him to tread this path after he was sent to prison? Aram believes he was an easy prey for the bad guys after his release. Maybe he even allowed himself to be talked into something by some fellow inmates. The system he believed in betrayed him. He had a score to settle."

„This is how it has to be. He must have been beside himself with rage."

„Yeah." Cooper seemed somehow lost in thoughts.

„Thank you for the update, Harold. I'm anxious to learn what he will tell you. I'm certain he will be very interested in a deal. Names and details in exchange for his freedom."

„I think Aram is wrong. I'm sure he did it very deliberately. A conscious decision. He's following an agenda, looking for something. That's why he does what he does."

„I'm sorry. I lost your thread."

„Gibbs. Something's driving him. Don't you think so?"

Cooper stared at his drink, gently swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

„You know, ages ago I've had a nodding acquaintance with a young and gifted agent, right here in D.C.. He was somewhat not unlike Ressler. Playing straight by the rules, eager to let justice prevail. Living our motto. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity. When I remember him correctly he even looked a little bit like him." Cooper chuckled slightly.

„He was charged with a mission that was probably too large for him to handle. When he got too close to the truth, his opponents took dire revenge. Must be in our age now, more or less. I'm wondering what has become of him and what would have become of him when things had worked out differently." Cooper emptied his glass.

„Tell me when you found out."

„If I find out. I'll better leave now. Good night, Reddington, thanks for the scotch." Cooper was already halfway through the door when he heard Red's voice once more: „Harold?"

„Yes?"

„Maybe both of them are still searching for an acceptable answer. The answer to the question why bad things happen to good people."

„This would be a possible explanation, Reddington. One among many others. Goodnight."

Red looked after Cooper a few seconds even when he had already disappeared through the door.

„This was strange."

Dembe hasn't moved a iota, his gaze fixed on his friend.

„He knows, Raymond."

„No. He's just beating around the bush. But he's conscious that something doesn't fit together.

He flipped open his burner phone.

„I'm sorry, my friend, our match has to wait. We have to meet someone as fast as possible. This very night."

...

Cooper spent a long time sitting in his car, staring through the front window. He wasn't able to start the engine. His conversation with Reddington did nothing to refute his conclusion. But it didn't confirm it neither.

„Admit it, Harold, you've known that it doesn't add up from the very beginning."

Cooper hit the steering wheel a few times to vent his anger. Damned. „But you wanted to believe it's true."

He knew he should run to Panabaker straightaway. Let her know about his bad suspicion.

But he also knew he wouldn't do that. More than four years of good work would have been wasted. The members of the task force would never be able to wash off the stain again. Their careers terminated. His own anyway. People had died in the course of carrying out their duty. Their death mustn't have been in vain.

He leaned against the head-rest, his hands tightened around the steering wheel.

Maybe he was completely wrong anyway, his implication utterly absurd.

One coming day he would have to justify himself for that madness before a committee or - even worse - in a court.

Cooper made a decision. He would write down his suspicion, confessing what he knew and what he suspected.

He would burry his testimony deep down in the drawer of his desk. At some point down the line he would give it to someone crossing his way. Someone who would be able to understand his inner strife and the burden he has to carry.

When he finally turned the ignition key and left his parking spot he missed the familiar dark limousine pulling out of the garage driveway.

...…

An attentive observer maybe would have noticed the large black Mercedes parked at the corner of a dark and quiet backstreet. And maybe he would have wondered briefly about a lonesome walker clad in a dark coat, approaching the limousine and disappearing on the rear seat without activating the courtesy light.

„Did they buy it?"

„Yes. They'll come for you tomorrow morning. Everything is arranged. Please at least pretend you are startled."

„I'll have difficulties to do so but I'll try."

Red could see the other man's grin in the faint glow from the distant streetlights.

„They'll transfer you to USP Allenwood for interrogations until arraignment. There you'll wait for your trial, which will never happen, as soon as you offer them a deal. I've probed the facility's vice director and he finally convinced me that there's no need to waste a word about his affair with one of his wardens to his wife and children. In deep gratitude for my silence he will place you in the same cell block where your target has been imprisoned for several months now.

Get in contact, be around, pal up with him and find out what I asked you for. His clients, their motives. But be on guard, he's a master of manipulation. He was well-trained by Committee of State Security. Exceeded even his teachers. He knows how to handle people."

„Former KGB? Quite a challenge. You don't have to tell me how to do my job. I'm not a novice."

„No. You're definitely not."

„I have to admit I was kind of surprised about your short-term changes on your plan. Wasn't I supposed to care about an arrested member of some drug trafficking ring?"

„Priorities change. I'm sorry for your trouble, Frank."

Gibbs nodded his acceptance. „I wouldn't do that for everyone. In fact, I swore to myself years ago that I never wanna go to jail again."

„I appreciate your help. I really do. I owe you one."

„Yeah." Frank Gibbs hesitated a moment before he continued: „May I ask you something, Red? What will you do, when you ... you know ... find out some day? Will you settle down and enjoy the rest of your life in luxury you can afford because of your accumulated wealth?" He took a deep breath: „Have you ever thought about giving in? Leaving behind this whole shit and let it be?"

Red faced away from his partner, looking out into the darkness.

„In search for the wicked I became one myself. They would be disgusted by what I am now. I think about giving in every day of my life. But something prevents me doing so. It's not just about me anymore. It all has become a bigger deal over time. But I can't tell you what I'm gonna do when my mission is finished, if I'm able to finish. I try not to think about that since I always found myself going west when I did."

„I see. Thanks for your sincerity. Do you have the information I asked you for?"

Red handed over a folder to Gibbs wordlessly.

The man put on his glasses and opened the file after he switched on the small reading light on his side of the rear seat.

„Ok, let's see what we've got here."

Two years ago you said?"

„It was his clear statement. Must be some months more now."

„A clue what it was about exactly?"

„I have some theories. But I don't want you to be biased. The less you know the less you could rouse his mistrust."

„That's true. You know it could take some time to get you the information you want. You have to be patient. He won't be easy to crack. And, Raymond, ... I may give you warning that you probably won't like what I'll find out. Few people do."

„I'm sure even now I won't like it."

Browsing in informative details about his target's life, family and career, Gibbs quickly turned to the last page, where a photo was attached to the folder.

It was the latest one Red was able to rustle up.

The man on the picture was definitely older than Red remembered him.

But despite the aged facial features and the graying hair the man was still

Dr. Bogdan Krilov.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Dugout, Part 1

 **Tacoma Park, July 21st 1988**

Of course they were on the dot.

08:00 sharp he heard the knock on the door.

He stood in the hallway all dressed, his travel bag beside him.

„I'll call you as soon I'm able to, ok? Say hi to our ballerina for me. I'm sorry."

He softly put his hands on his wife's shoulders and pulled her into a tender embrace. „I have to go. Please don't be mad at me anymore, sweetheart. I'll make it up to you. I promise."

„I'm not mad. I'm disappointed and I'm sick of missing you."

„Come here!" He kissed her gently, his hands playing with the soft strands of her hair.

The knocking was more pressing this time.

„Coming!" he shouted over his shoulder.

„Goodbye, honey. Take care and don't forget to call." she managed a smile.

„As soon as I can. Goodbye. I love you."

He grabbed his bag and opened the front door, greeting the two young men who delivered him this unsettling message yesterday. He had been lying awake for hours, trying to make out which truth was hidden behind the prim words.

„Good morning, gentlemen. Always dead on time, huh? I can't wait for our little trip. Virginia's countryside has to be phenomenal at this time of year."

His wife watched as he threw his bag into the trunk and got into the dark car which would take him to his next assignment.

She couldn't explain it to herself but she had an uneasy feeling about it. Something was different than usual.

…...

The ride led him straight to central D.C. as he had expected. But they passed the J. Edgar Hoover Building on Pennsylvania Avenue, heading eastbound and crossing the Potomac. He wasn't very familiar with D.C.'s countless eastern suburbs. Shortly they had driven by the town sign of Arlington the driver steered the limousine into a parking garage of a small import-export trade and shut of the engine.

„Seems I was right with Virginia at all." he teased and exited the car.

„Welcome to the ›Dugout‹, sir!" the younger man handed him his bag.

„Dugout?"

„That's how we call this blacksite. You'll know why in a few moments."

„I thought blacksites were just a rumor." he was perplexed.

„Definitely not, sir. Please follow me." He went ahead to a big goods elevator. After he had closed the lattice gate he whipped out a set of keys from his pockets and removed one from the ring.

„Yours, sir." The young man held it up for him. „Don't mislay it."

He put his own key into the lock beyond the buttons for the upper levels and turned it clockwise.

They moved downwards.

„Ok, there's no way back now, is there?" he felt his pulse rate quicken.

„Not really, I'm afraid." The young agent gave him an encouraging smile. „Be proud of yourself. It has to be something really big. Hand-picked attendants only."

„I don't know if this really soothes my nerves."

The elevator stopped abruptly. They had to be two or three levels below the surface at least. His companion opened the large doors and offered free view to a huge cellar-like room with high ceilings and grey walls made of reinforced concrete.

The air was filled with the beeping and rattling sounds of computers and teletypes. A telephone was ringing somewhere. About a dozen people, some clothed in uniform, moved between the desks and work stations.

The opposite side of the elevator prominently showed the seal of DoD.

A dugout indeed.

„This once was designed as a low-level shelter for army action forces." he was informed by his escort. „Since it was abandoned in 1979 it's used as an unlisted operations center now and then. You are expected. The others are already here."

The young man hurried ahead towards a conference room which was separated from the main hall by several glass elements.

The louvered blinds were pulled closed.

„Please step inside. The briefing is scheduled for 09.30." His guide opened the door for him. „Good luck!"

He checked his watch. Ten minutes left and he finally would know what this was all about.

He entered the room and let his eyes wander around the scenery.

Beside a speaker's desk and a screen at the front side the room was dominated by a large table. Most seats had already been occupied by about ten men and women, some of them clad in Navy uniform, some in typical black FBI or CIA suits.

All conversation stopped immediately as he stepped over the threshold, heads turning towards him, examining the newcomer with unashamed curiosity.

„Good morning, folks. Seems I'm the crowning glory today."

He put his bag somewhere at the wall and headed to a vacant seat between a young and large agent and a woman in crisp uniform.

An arrogant looking man on the opposite side of the table bent forward:

„Hey, laggard, can you tell us what this is all about?"

„No. I was hoping you knew something. But it seems we are all quite clueless here." he shrugged nonchalantly although his heart was in his mouth.

„I was torn out in the middle of an important operation yesterday. What the hell could be this crucial? I've been doing this job for 25 years now and I'm really good at what I'm doing. But now I'm forced to work with children. Look around! Many of you are still green behind the ears."

Anger surged within him. What a priggish asshole.

„Some of us have been waiting for an hour now. The suspense is killing us. Don't pay attention to him." The large man on his left extended his hand. He could not have been more than 25. „Harold Cooper, FBI." he introduced himself.

He shook Cooper's hand. „It's ok, I think we are all nervous. Guess we are colleagues. My name is..."

He was interrupted by the door flinging open.

Three men entered the conference room and built up in front of them.

„Good morning, people. Thank you for your appearance. We are complete now.

Let's get down to business. Welcome to the ›Dugout‹.

My name is Leonard Caul, I'm your head of operations and representing the CIA within this task force.

You report only - and I'd like to point out that I mean exclusively - to me, to Lieutenant Commander Brown, DIA, or Agent Meyers representing the FBI."

The mentioned men at his side nodded slightly towards the silent listeners.

„You'll talk to no one outside." Caul continued. „Neither to your spouse, nor to your boss. Anything you'll hear the next minutes must not leave these walls. Is that understood?"

An affirmative murmur went through the room. Some nodded their agreement wordlessly.

Great, he thought, what the hell did he get into? He abandoned his hope for a quick return home.

„I know all of you have a lot of questions - but I assure you - everyone in this room is present for a good reason. Because they know something important or have significant experiences we are in great want of.

Maybe you wonder about the constitution of this joint task force. I have to admit that there are still many unsolved jurisdictional issues. Our assignment concerns matters of all of our organizations. CIA, FBI and naval intelligence, but it's too urgent to wait until the paper pushers in their pretty offices finally get off the ground and finish their discussion about who will achieve the fame and get another decoration. It was the Vice President's decision to initiate an overarching unit under DoD's command.

We told your superiors some tales to explain why you are not available at the moment. And here we are now. I expect hard and precise work from all of you. There's the possibility for this to get real nasty, but a presidential letter of thanks is all you can get here, no more, no less. A promotion if you are lucky."

Caul took a deep breath. „Any questions so far?"

„Yes!" the agent who already had played up earlier rose his hand. „When do you tell us what is this all about so we can get it done and return to our work?"

Caul stepped up to the dork and pointed towards the door. „Leave!"

„What? But I ..." the man was blushing with embarrassment.

„Get out, now! Report to the agent who brought you here. He'll drive you to your office. We are in no need for babbling idiots."

Everyone in the room held their breath. The silence was absolute. One could have heard a pin drop.

The man rose from his chair. „I really don't need this!" he hissed and rushed through the door not without slamming it shut behind himself.

He couldn't help but watching the drama with some malicious glee.

„Too bad!" FBI Agent Meyers shook his head. „He is an ass but he is also our best analyzer."

Caul was unimpressed: „No one is irreplaceable. Any more questions? No? All right, Commander Brown will brief you now with the specific details."

Brown cleared his throat before he started talking:

„Exactly one week ago, we received a letter, played into our hands by our conduit at the Soviet Union embassy in D.C.. It absolutely would be an understatement to say we were surprised by it's content. Currently we think it's safe to assume that the message is authentic. It contains a tempting offer. One we cannot ignore. But let's start from the beginning...

Since Gorbachev is in power things have got in motion in the Eastern bloc. His initiated reforms are having a strong impact already. Not within the Soviet Union alone but the whole Warsaw Pact. The independence efforts of the Eastern Bloc states grow with every day that passes. The unquestioning obedience to Moscow crumbles.

All of you watch the news so I spare you the details. Thank God it seems the Cold War will be over before it gets hot.

But Gorbachev's radical new policy of perestroika and glasnost startles up the old guards.

They fear for their established privileges.

Some are able to see which way the wind is blowing now and have started to reconsider their mindset. Others on the contrary try to maintain their sinecures or seek refuge in flight.

As a result we receive a lot of requests from potential defectors these days. Mostly of no interest.

But this one is different.

The details and specifics described in the paper alone are worth a lot. Everything we've been able to check so far turned out to be correct. Evidence of foreign intelligence activities in the States, juicy details of the lives of government members and so on.

But this was just a forecast of what is possibly to come, just an appetizer to make sure we take the bait.

We were offered a once-in-lifetime-chance to get hold of not one but two topp-class KGB agents at once."

He turned towards the white wall at the front of the room.

„Please dim the light. Agent Meyers, the pictures."

Meyers fumbled around with the slide projector until he was finally able to screen the first picture. It showed a young red-haired woman who was laughing at the photographer openly.

A very attractive appearance.

The woman beside him gasped in surprise.

„May I introduce: Katharina Rostova. The supposed source of the message." Brown proceeded. „One of the very few pics of her we have. It's already some years old. She has to be about 35 now. Lieutenant, as I understand you compiled everything worth knowing about Rostova for years. Maybe you can help me here. No one knows more about her than you do."

Brown addressed the uniformed woman who sat on the chair beside him.

„Yes, sir. That's correct. I'm after her since I was shifted to Soviet Affairs six years ago. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

„Exactly, Lieutenant. That's why we chose you. Please tell us what you've learned so far."

At least she knows, he thought to himself, still wondering what was his designated part in this cat-and-mouse-game.

„Ok, sir. To be honest we don't know much at all. Some of us even think she doesn't exist. Rostova remains a mystery to us. A legend. This is what we have collected so far:

She has been married for a few years now to a successful Russian business man, Konstantin Rostov. This guy took advantage of the fundamental changes in his home country without scruples. He earned millions with Moscow's beginning sellout. They have a house at the Canadian east coast, Nova Scotia to be precisely, where they live on and off. Rostova has been connected with nearly every major successful Russian intelligence operation in Northern America for the last eight years.

We assume Rostov only acts as her cover. His money makes him nearly untouchable. Nonetheless they have a child as we know. We found hints that Rostova was trained in one of these myth-enshrouded camps or military facilities which were perfect replicas of US towns. KGB qualified it's people to speak and behave like normal US citizens there - until they were sent here for infiltration. A method which was quite successful since Jurij Andropov came up with it as head of KGB in 1963.

You wouldn't sense that Rostova is Russian if you didn't know. Her English is just as good as yours or mine. A perfect imitation."

„Why hasn't she been arrested yet?" one of the attentive listeners at the table interjected.

„Diplomatic status. But more important, the authorities have no real proof, though she's one of USSR's most effective spies."

„What do you know about her modus operandi, Lieutenant?" Caul asked.

„She's looking for promising targets, men mostly. Intelligence, service members or high-level officials. Everyone who has access to crucial information and then she ... er ... does her magic. The fewest can resist her performance. If they don't give her what she wants freely, she'll blackmail them with the fact they had an affair with a Soviet spy. Usually that works." The woman thoughtfully viewed the picture of Katarina Rostova which was still displayed at the room's wall. „If she's really willing to defect it would be a really big catch. It would totally eclipse a lot of our previous achievements. We could learn things of which we have only dreamed so far. But ... are you sure her offer won't prove to be a setup? And who would be the other one? You spoke about two agents."

„That's true, Lieutenant." Brown confirmed. „This brings us back to Rostova's offer. It contains a condition. She's willing to cooperate if we manage to spring her father from Soviet territory and bring him here to the States. Her only living relative, polkovnik of the red army, spetznaz brigade, with extensive contacts to KGB's high command. Or so Rostova claims in her message."

„Russian family business it seems." Cooper next to him tried a joke to lighten up the mood. All of them were serious-looking and highly concentrated. „How on earth should we take him out of there? And does he want that anyway? Do we have any information about him at all? Or do we trust blindly what a foreign spy is telling us?"

The female Lieutenant agreed. „He's right. And it's not that Rostova's father simply could walk out and get on a plane. I don't know if we should jump on her proposal. We could walk right into a trap, letting both of them have a look into our operation principles and structure. A project like this has to be prepared for months. And even that would not guarantee any success."

„We have four days." Caul rose to speak, leaving all of them appalled. „The preparations are in full swing already. Rostova's instructions were very clear. And very clever, if I may say so. Though the time window is extremely limited. Her father is attending a meeting of army officers in Leningrad until Monday. We'll bring him out seaborne. Across the Baltic Sea. The operation unit already has landed on Rhein-Main Air Base in Germany. Oleander is aware what is going to happen. If everything works as planned he's in our custody by Sunday."

„Oleander?" It was the first time he participated in the debate, stepping out of his role as silent observer.

„His codename. You know eastern intelligence services are crazy about codenames." he was informed.

„Well, sounds like an ambitious plan. What's gonna happen if everything will work out as you said?" He wasn't entirely convinced yet.

„Then, agent, it's your turn." Caul eyed him with a severe look.

„I don't understand." A strange feeling built up in his gut.

„As I told you in the beginning. Everyone is here for a reason. The deciding factor for taking Rostova's offer into consideration was her knowledge about a turncoat in our midst. Her last assignment, you know better than any of us. An US Navy officer with access to top-secret intelligence matters. A high traitor in our own ranks, who shared states secrets with her just like she shared his bed. You will help us to figure out if she's telling the truth about him."

When the picture of Rostova's lover appeared on the wall almost in life size he finally knew why he was here.

... end part 1 ...


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Dugout, Part 2

He picked at his meal halfheartedly after he had sat down at a table in rearmost corner of the lunchroom. It was not that the food was bad at all. He had just lost his appetite completely after the news and revelations from the earlier briefing which had lasted until early afternoon in the end.

Caul and his colleagues had really driven their message home.

They had defined three purposes.

The first one was to question Katharina Rostova and press her for anything she knew about foreign intelligence service activities in the States and KGB's current condition in her home country. Furthermore they were supposed to do the same with her father when, if, he reached US ground.

And - not least - they were ordered to collect every evidence to convict Raymond Reddington of betrayal of secrets. Instead of being promoted to admiral he would go to jail for the rest of his life. Or worse.

Since Rostova would be the principle witness he was assigned to monitor her interrogation and give an opinion if she was telling the truth about Reddington or if she was just throwing them a red herring. Though he felt bad about it, he already had passed judgment on Ray. His odd behavior for the last weeks fitted too well.

He felt like his worst nightmare had turned into reality.

He was about to investigate a member of the family. Carla's husband. And it was not about suspected tax fraud or a speeding ticket. This was about high treason, Russian spies and cloak-and-dagger-operations.

Like a fucking James Bond movie you'd watch in cinema. Damned. He pushed his half-full plate away in disgust reaching for his coffee instead.

"May I?"

Cooper was standing in front of him carrying his fully laden tray.

"Yeah, sure." he offered the vacant chair vis-a-vis.

"No good?"

"Sorry?"

"Lunch? That bad?" Cooper pointed at his plate.

"No. No, it's ok. I'm not hungry, that's all."

"I see. This stuff really makes you feeling low, doesn't it? May I ask what your connection to this Reddington guy is about? Were you once Navy too? Do you know him from there?"

He gave Cooper a quiet smile. "No. Not from there. Although I always wanted to join the academy in Annapolis since I was a little boy. I always felt attracted by the ocean. It's vast, to be hundreds of miles off the shore. I always wanted to captain a ship. To stand at the helm of your destiny." He chuckled softly shaking his head. "But my father refused his permission. His son wouldn't serve at armed forces. So I landed at the FBI somehow."

"You know," Cooper stated between two mouthfuls. "I know him personally too. Met him once, briefly after we rescued him from Seduke's captivity. He was in quite bad shape back then."

"I don't know about any captivity." He was surprised, but he also remembered Carla mentioning a hospital treatment overseas a few months ago. She said something about ›injured in the line of duty‹.

"Yeah. He got captured by a Russian spy he was after. There was a combined task force to get him out. FBI and Seals. I was working lead on the agency side."

Cooper took a sip of his Coke.

"Well done. You seem quite young for that." He was impressed.

"Guess I was just lucky." Cooper showed a broad grin. "Right place at the right time."

The female Lieutenant sat down beside them. "Holy shit. Isn't this thrillingly? She will be brought here for interrogation on Monday. I can't believe this is happening."

He couldn't share her enthusiasm. He was still upset about the whole situation.

She pulled a cigarette pack out of her pockets and lit herself one of it. Inhaling deeply she offered them her table-mates.

He had quit smoking four years ago but right in this moment his need for a cigarette hadn't been stronger since then. He failed to refuse and accepted the offer.

What the heck, he would quit again when this was all over. When he felt the nicotine flow through his body he immediately felt better. Finishing his coffee he conversed some more minutes with his colleagues about their imminent assignment.

"Please excuse me." he took his leave when he watched Caul passing the lunch room's doorway. He leaped on his feet and rushed after him. "Sir? Agent Caul?"

"Yes, agent?"

"I'm sorry to bother you but I wanted to know if I'm allowed to call my family? To tell them I'm doing well."

"Is that the case, agent? Are you doing well? I had the feeling your grew quite pale in there a few minutes ago." Caul pointed towards the conference room.

He didn't answer and avoided Caul's gaze.

"Let's continue this in my office." Caul turned and indicated him to follow.

"I'm sorry to put you in this...situation." Caul began after he closed the door. "It wasn't my decision but I back it. We'll do anything to make sure no one receive a word about your involvement. We don't wanna put you in a conflict of loyalty or drive a wedge between you and the rest of your family."

"Do I have a choice?" He meant it rather as a rhetoric question.

"No. Not really. Would you refuse if you had one?"

He reflected the question briefly before he replied: "I swore an oath at the constitution. To defend it against all enemies, foreign and domestic. So the answer is no, sir, I won't refuse to discharge my duty. My allegiance is to the law and to the truth.

If he's guilty we will bring him down. If he's not, we'll prove his innocence and clear his name."

A knowing smile flashed over Caul's face.

"You know, agent, over the years I've learned my lesson the hard way. That things aren't always just black and white. There is plenty of gray in between. Mostly the truth isn't that obvious or simple. More often than not things are not how they seem to be at a first brief look. Remember this! Maybe my advice can spare you some painful experiences."

"Yes, sir." he approved though, he wasn't really sure what Caul wanted to express.

"How do you get along with Reddington anyway?" his superior wanted to know.

"If I may put it that way: I've come to terms with him. We are not very close."

"I see. How would you describe him? Tell me his profile."

"Well, he's first to come, always. His own needs are top priority. He's unpredictable, ruthless and manipulative when it comes down to his advancement. His demeanor is not to be surpassed by dominance.

To put it plainly: Reddington is an arrogant bragger.

But then again he can be extremely taking. Few can resist his charm. He's eloquent, his manners are polished. He pays attention to well-groomed appearance. It's no coincidence that he climbed the career ladder that fast, his intellect is brilliant. He's well-organized and everything he does is characterized by his perfectionism."

Caul nodded his understanding.

"From what you know by now ... do you think he's guilty? Do you believe he did what he's suspected of?"

"Let me tell you this: Raymond showed up at my doorstep in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. Never saw him like that. He was drunk and desperate. Admitted he has an affair. Wanted me to find a name with my access to FBI database. He nearly turned violent when I told him he should make off." He run his hand through his hair.

"Fits together perfectly, doesn't it?"

"Indeed. Almost too good. What name did he want?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't ask. I had no idea it could become important."

"Ok. Too bad." Caul was visibly disappointed. "What was it you wanted before?"

"I wanted to know if I'm allowed to call my wife and tell her it's gonna take some time and I'm ok."

"I've got a better idea. Why don't you go home for the next couple of hours. Tell her in person. There's nothing important gonna happen until Monday morning.

We are condemned to wait until we get the nod from our on-scene commander in Germany that Oleander is safe and sound in our custody.

Get your desk ready and discuss any further procedures with your colleagues.

Then get yourself a ride home. Enjoy the weekend with your family until your full attention is needed here beginning on Monday morning."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me. You'll condemn me before next week is over."

...

She awoke at the sound of a car engine departing from the driveway. It had gotten dark already and the air was still warm from the bright summer day that ended a few hours ago. She listened observingly to the noises which seemed unusually loud in the nocturnal peacefulness.

The key in the lock.

Footsteps approaching the kitchen.

The clinking of bottles in the fridge.

The door to the porch.

She tossed away the duvet and headed downstairs.

He sat in the lawn chair, still dressed in his suit, the tip of his cigarette glowing softly orange against the surrounding darkness.

Gazing into the night sky he seemed totally wrapped up in his thoughts.

She stepped closer and tousled his hair.

"You may have given me a warning. What if I had taken you for burglar and shot you?" she teased him.

He reclined his head and smiled up to her.

"There really was no danger of confusion. Have you ever heard about such a handsome one, just looking for a beer and waiting for the lady of the house on the porch?"

"Never. And they normally don't smoke this unhurriedly." She raised a brow.

He kept silent, biting his cheek.

"This bad, honey?"

"You have no idea." he rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that. When do you have to return?"

"Monday morning. And that time I won't come home this fast."

She sat down on his lap and loosened his tie.

"So... we have the whole weekend. That's something, isn't it?" She took a large sip of his beer.

"Yeah. I thought about a short family trip tomorrow. Having some quality time and some fun. Just the three of us. What do you think?" He pulled her closer.

"Sounds great to me." She undid the buttons of his shirt and began to fondle the soft hair on his chest. "Our daughter will be excited. The sea maybe? We haven't been at the beach for years."

"The beach it is!" He smirked broadly at his wife who run her fingers seductively down to his waistband.

"Sounds like a plan." she rose from his lap and reached out for him. "And now, honey, it's time for some quality time with just the two of us."

"Sounds like a plan, sweetheart."

Their lovemaking was gentle and leisured.

He found that there was something comforting in the fact in knowing your lover's body nearly as well as your own.

Neither any need for play-act nor any compulsion to be perfect.

Simply being the person you really are.

He felt a lot more eased in her warm embrace afterwards when his head rested on her belly, his fingers caressing her soft skin. But even yet he couldn't stop his thoughts wandering back to business.

He was still in good spirits when he arrived at the blacksite for work on Monday.

They really have had fun though, the ocean was too cold for his girls to go swimming. But this little inconvenience didn't spoil their mood. They've had a copious picnic, picked shells at the beach and each of them had so much ice cream that all of them felt sick afterwards.

He haven't had felt such close to them for a long time.

"We really should do this more often!" he told himself smiling faintly when he recalled the events of the recent weekend.

His sublime mood vanished in the moment he stepped out of the elevator.

Instead of the regular hustle and bustle he was awaited by an uncommon quietness.

He grabbed the elbow of the first one who passed his way.

"What's wrong?"

"The guards at the port of Leningrad had an objection against our plan. We were blown. We've lost two of our men. The target caught a bullet." he was informed with unmistakable frustration.

"Will he survive?"

"Yeah, we think so. The rest of the team made it out. Barely made it to Finland's coast, but they were not welcomed there and got ushered out because of neutrality issues. He's in surgery now at the US military hospital in Ramstein. No one can tell when he's fit enough to be moved here."

"We're off to a good start!" he thought cynical. "And we haven't really started yet."

"How far does this affect our deal with Rostova?" he asked.

"Not a bit ... so far. Her father is out of there, as we promised." He heard Caul's voice behind himself. "She was assured safe conduct and we proceed as planned. Rostova will arrive any moment. Are you ready, agent? You will assist in her survey. Center your concentration on any word she'll drop about Reddington."

"Understood, sir."

The woman who stepped out of the elevator a few minutes later was accompanied by two heavy armed guards.

He thought this was maybe a slight exaggeration. He wasn't able to perceive her petite and elegant appearance as a threat.

Her watchful and confident gaze lingered on him as she was escorted towards the interrogation room.

"Well," Caul sighed. "Let's get started!"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Detours

"He doesn't talk. Not a word."

Ressler was annoyed. "We offered him mitigation of sentence, confronted him with evidence ... nothing!"

"Evidence?" Red bent his head quizzically.

"Yes. Your footage tapes."

"You know as well as him - and myself- that the tapes won't serve as a proof. Indications maybe, at the most. It's nothing that really bothers him."

"Do you have any better suggestions?"

"No. I helped you to track Gibbs. The rest is out of my hands. It's been only two weeks. He will cave in. His resistance will wear down given time."

"Yeah. Or he will remain silent. And we got nothing."

"He will not. When he gets tired of being imprisoned, he will talk. Where's your patience, Donald? Consumed after years of hunting ... for me?"

Red knew Frank Gibbs would sing out loud and clear in exchange for his freedom - when his task was completed. His silence could only mean he hasn't got any significant from Krilov by now.

Red studied his opposite thoroughly.

"You seem to be quite tense recently. Maybe you should allow yourself to enjoy some quiet and relaxation. You're a handsome and healthy young man, Donald. Go out, find yourself a nice girl and get laid. I'm sure you'll feel a lot better afterwards. If you are in need of some practice or you became somewhat rusty in this particular area ... I could give you the number of someone. I'm sure she will be able to rearrange her schedule book if I put in a good word for you."

"You're disgusting, Reddington!"

"Agent Ressler ..."

"What? More good advice?"

"I also have the number of people who solve problems. It's been a few months but my offer still stands."

"As I told you before: I hope that day will never come. Why do you care about me anyway? I was a pain in your ass for years ... as you are for me now."

"And as I told you before: I admire your determination to do the right thing.

You remind me of someone I knew. A lifetime ago. You're a good guy, Donald. I don't want you to make the same mistakes as ... others."

"I'm afraid someone will lose his head again, when you butt into."

"Yes. That may happen from time to time. But don't tell me that wasn't exactly what you wanted. At least it was exactly what I would have wanted."

"I'm not a bit like you. Most certainly not."

"Hopefully it will stay that way, Donald. Goodbye."

If someone ever elevated a simple move like putting his hat on to an art form, it was Raymond Reddington, Ressler thought as he watched Red's stagy exit until he was out of sight.

...

"How long do you think it will take?" Dembe asked while he steered the Mercedes homewards.

"Until Frank comes up with something substantial?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure he will come up with anything at all. But if someone is able to educe information from Krilov, it's him. Let's give him a few weeks."

Dembe activated the right-hand indicator and left the main road.

"You made a wrong turn. Where are we going?" Red was puzzled.

"Just a small detour. Take it as a little surprise."

"I hate surprises. You know that."

"You will like this one. And besides ... I promised."

"You promised? What exactly did you promise? A conspiratorial meeting? Did you do some of my business behind my back?" Red started to get upset.

"Not exactly. But if I reconsider, yes, it's somehow kind of your business."

Dembe parked the vehicle by the roadside and shut off the engine.

"Dembe, I ..."

"Get out of the car and calm down. I promised Rosa and Agnes we stop by at the park this afternoon."

"Oh. Ok."

The guards nodded their greeting as they recognized their boss approaching and seemed suddenly even more alert than before. Red and Dembe found a vacant bench near the playground where a group of children occupied the equipments and some parents and nannies watched their infants protectively.

Agnes was busy scooping some sand into her pink bucket. Her tongue was caught between her lips in highest concentration.

When Rosa noticed their appearance she waved at them and drew Agnes' attention to them, gesturing towards the both men.

Red couldn't make out what Rosa was telling the girl, but Agnes face lit up.

She dropped her little shovel, climbed out of the sandbox and ran straight into Red's waiting arms.

Dembe couldn't hide his smile when the little girl placed her sandy hands on Red's 4000 $ custom made suit.

"Hey, princess. Having fun?" Red was beaming at the infant, giving her a brief squeeze.

If she hadn't already won his heart it would be her's now for sure.

Red wished Liz could see her like that.

She appeared as cheerful and lighthearted as any other child around. No one would have surmised what Agnes had gone through the last couple of months.

While Rosa came up to both men Agnes freed herself from Red's embrace and rushed for the slide, not forgetting to look back every few footsteps to make sure Red was still watching her.

"What?" Red noticed Dembe's sheepish smirk.

"I like how you change when she's around."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just glad she's happy."

"Sure." Dembe's smile didn't vanish.

"It's great you made it." Rosa laughed as she sat down beside them. "She was looking for you both since we arrived."

Meanwhile Agnes had climbed the ladder of the small children's slide, beckoning to the grownups.

"Shouldn't anyone go over and make sure she doesn't hurt herself?" Red was concerned, rubbing his palms at his slacks unwittingly.

"No, Mr. Reddington, she wants to show you she can do it on her own. Besides ... the slide is really low."

And indeed ... Agnes got down on her bottom and slid down all on her own. It was not entirely clear who was more excited about her success: the infant or the grownups.

Agnes clapped her small hands and headed towards the ladder again when something different caught her attention.

One of the older children had brought along a small bottle of soapy water and started to blow bubbles while sitting on the swing. Agnes was fascinated, watching the iridescent spheres dancing in the mildly breeze, bursting on contact with any object. Her small mouth fell open when she followed one of the rainbow-colored balls with her eyes until it came within reach.

She put out her hand and tried to catch the bubble that naturally popped at the first touch of her fingers. Agnes was obviously shaken for a moment but then her curiosity took over. She hopped right into the pile of bubbles and burst every single one she could get at. Her giggle mixed with the other children's contagious laughter who followed her lead.

„Bubbles always work, don't they?" Rosa watched the play with great enjoyment.

She didn't notice the sudden change on Red's formerly amused expression. Neither did Dembe.

How could he have missed that?

Ok, the color of her hair was different, like her mother's. But her sweet little face, the way she looked at him, the nature of her movements, her smile ...

Red felt sick suddenly, swallowing hard.

He wasn't capable forming any straight thought. His mind was racing and he was breathing heavily.

No. No, this was not possible. Absolutely not. Out of question!

But this strange incident at Sharon's apartment ...

No, Red, you lost your marbles! Come back to your senses!

He leaped to his feet. "I have to go."

Dembe and Rosa glanced up at him with concern. "Is something wrong?"

Even the guards who waited in adequate distance looked nervously around, searching for the source of Red's unforeseen behavior.

Red didn't respond and turned to leave the park area with grand strides, shoving his fists deep into the pockets of his jacket.

"Raymond!" Dembe called after him, "That's the wrong way. The car is parked on the other side."

"I'll walk."

His friend and the nanny remained behind and didn't have a clue what just happened.

Of course Red's sudden leave didn't go unnoticed by Agnes too. She searched for Rosa's nearness and looked after him disappointedly.

...

They waited three hours for Red's reappearance at the apartment. It was nearly dark by now and Dembe was close to returning to the car, looking for him. He had offered to take Rosa and Agnes home with him, a proposal the nanny had accepted thankfully.

While Agnes could be distracted easily, Rosa was still confused. "Did I something wrong, Mr. Zuma? If I did ... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to ..."

„Rosa, I can't think of anything you did wrong. Or anybody else. I'm as clueless as you are. I'm sure there will be a simple explanation. A misunderstanding perhaps." He soothingly placed a hand over hers.

Finally Red showed up.

He was soaked in sweat, implying he had walked around at a rapid pace for hours.

Dembe rose from his seat and wanted to confront him but Red's bad mood hadn't changed at all. His face was stony as he brushed past them towards his room wordlessly, slamming the door shut. Agnes cringed at the unexpected sound and burst into tears.

Shortly after they heard him rumbling around in his cabinets. The silence that followed was even more unsettling.

"I haven't seen Mr. Reddington like this since I started working for him. He was always patient, even with Agnes though, she really could be trying sometimes. It scares me. He scares me." Rosa admitted while she tried to calm down the perturbed girl.

"It's been a while for me too. Years." Dembe didn't like what he remembered.

"Why was he this furious the last time?"

"It had something to do with a wedding."

...

It was nearly midnight when Dembe knocked at Red's door. He didn't wait for a response and went in without invitation.

He found him standing at the window, staring out at the city at night.

The room was dark except the flickering light of a video projector, beaming bizarre patterns at the wall. Whatever film reel Red had been watching - he hadn't turned off the device when it had come to an end.

Red had changed his clothes, wearing pajama bottoms and an unsoiled shirt.

The glass in his hand was half-filled, while the corresponding crystal bottle on the nightstand was half-empty.

Dembe decided to switch on a lamp before he went to shut down the clattering machine.

„Leave me alone!" His dark voice was slightly slurred, cutting through the sudden quietness.

"You are drunk" Dembe declared.

„Not enough."

"You scared them. Agnes and Rosa."

"They'll survive."

"You can be a real ass sometimes."

"If I agree to that - will you leave me alone?"

"I remember vividly when you were acting like this the last time. You emptied a whole magazine into the wall of your hotel room in Bogota. I had a really hard time calming down the director and his staff and persuading them that there was no need to call the police."

"Don't sweat it. I won't shot my own wall."

Red refilled his glass.

"Six years ago it was because of Tom Keen. He's dead and buried. What is it about this time?"

"This time, my friend, it's because it was very likely not Tom Keen. What a happy twist of fate." Red's voice oozed with sarcasm, raising his glass to Dembe.

"Let's drink to that!"

"That's enough, Raymond!" Dembe stepped up on him, when he noticed a photograph lying on the floor at the bedside. When he bent down to pick it up his eyes fell on a pile of old pictures scattered upon the cushion.

All of them showed a girl at different ages up to about 8 or maybe even 10 years.

He sat down on the bed and looked closely at the photos, taking them in his hands for a better view. Despite the blonde curls this girl could have been Agnes' older sister. The resemblance was striking, at least on the pictures that imaged her at a age that was similar to Agnes' current one.

"See what I see? Or am I finally losing my mind?"

Red had turned towards the window again.

"Is she who I think she is?" Dembe replaced the pictures of Red's daughter carefully.

"You know the answer."

Dembe took a deep breath before he asked carefully: "Is there even a possibility that Agnes is your daughter as well?"

"I don't know." Red's answer was barely a whisper.

"Sorry?"

"I fucking don't know!" this time he bawled his words. The expensive glass shattered in million pieces as Red dashed it at the wall of his bedroom.

At least this time a brush will do it, Dembe thought frowning.

„What do you mean you don't know? Yet something must have happened, somehow, somewhere ... if you consider the possibility to some extent that Agnes is yours. Do I have to spell it for you? The rest is just a simple arithmetic procedure."

"It's anything but simple, Dembe."

"I'm listening."

"You would just declare me insane."

"Let's find out."

Red rubbed his hands over his face but it didn't really help to sort his woolly thoughts. His excessive intake of alcohol didn't assist either. "I believe I'm losing it, Dembe. I'm not sure if I can trust my wits anymore. For months now there are this weird tags of memories and gaps where none should be. Flashbacks I can't explain to myself. Does this make any sense to you?"

"Memories such as ..."

"Superficially speaking everything fits. But then ..." he shook his head. "A few weeks ago I spent hours to recall how it slipped by me to watch over her right after we came back to D.C. after every single person in this country hunted us for an act of terrorism. You know what happened on that parking lot. I spent months protecting her, never leaving her side. And then- when we came back - I made sure her apartment is guarded but I evidently missed having her watched beyond that.

I usually don't make these mistakes. At least not concerning Elizabeth. You know what I mean?"

Red startet pacing.

"One day she places her trusts in me and the next one she's more distant than ever before. Looking at me like she'd never had seen something more disgusting.

And the more I think about this, the more I must draw the conclusion that I'm not aware of something important happening right after we returned. What am I missing? Did I something wrong, said anything?" Red gestured helplessly.

"And on the other hand my mind plays tricks on me. Sometimes there are these images arising out of nothing, images of ..." he broke off, standing still.

"Yes?"

Red swallowed, averting Dembe's eyes.

"I see."

"Maybe I should see a doctor about my condition."

"I don't think there's something wrong with you." Dembe placed his big hand on Red's neck encouraging. "What about this: I'll brew us some African coffee - you look like you could need one or two - and then we'll finish this conversation. Ok?"

"Ok. Thank you, my friend. Watch the shards."

Dembe came back a few minutes later with two cups of steaming black coffee.

After a few sips Red already felt it's stimulating effect.

"I did some thinking while I was in the kitchen. You are right, usually you don't make any mistakes concerning Elizabeth' safety. So, if you didn't assign me for taking measures - and you didn't - whom else would you have trusted with it? Maybe the lapse is to find there."

"Kate."

Dembe kept silent.

"I can't think of any scenario which would have lead Kate to put Elizabeth on risk. She would have rather sacrificed me."

"Except she wanted it to happen and blame you afterwards to undermine her confidence in you. Yet a few months later she was determined to keep Elizabeth and her child out of your reach. Or more precisely, to extract you from their life. What if Kate was on that track already after you and Elizabeth returned to D.C."

Red needed a few moments for Dembe's words to settle.

"Elizabeth wasn't aware of her pregnancy back then. Do you want to imply Kate knew?"

"You knew."

"I did."

Dembe waited until Red realized what he was driving at.

"I get it. Perhaps, but that doesn't explain what's wrong with me."

"Well, she wanted to poison you. Did you ever consider the possibility that she manipulated you somehow?"

"It crossed my mind..."

"So that's why you put Frank Gibbs on Krilov?"

"Partly. But mainly Frank is supposed to find out what he did to Elizabeth two and a half years ago and who hired him."

"Do you want to wait until he comes up with something? If he does."

"Not since today." Red admitted.

"I thought so."

"You also have noticed the resemblance between both of them, haven't you?"

"Yes, nobody can miss that fact.

... Raymond, I have something to confess ... I sometimes wondered if Agnes is yours. I noticed something had changed the day we picked up Elizabeth after her release from custody. The timeline matches, doesn't it? But then ... I thought, you, my brother, would have told me if you two ... you know ... had become intimate. It even occurred to me that I lost your confidence because you didn't bring it up. I'm very glad you trusted me tonight and my worries were to no purpose."

"You are all what I've got left."

"Hopefully not for long." Dembe stated while he headed towards Red's bathroom.

"Yes, another life I may mess up." Red heard his friend bustle about in his bathroom equipment. "What the hell do you do in there?"

"I'm trying to create facts instead of poking in the dark."

"What?"

"I'm looking for you toothbrush - there was no comb."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Pending

Red's first mistake was his attempt to blink.

The second one was that he gave a loud moan when the daylight cut right into his hurting skull. His own sound blasted painfully in his ears. He shut his eyes tightly and waited for the wave of nausea to fade away.

When he was finally able to swing his legs out of the bed he luckily remembered the pieces of broken glass spread in his room.

He tried to focus on his watch. Nearly lunchtime. "Lunch is canceled anyway." he decided. "I'm getting too old to drown my problems in scotch."

Carefully he padded towards the shower and set the temperature as cold as he was able to bear.

After he spent a long time under the pulsating stream he felt halfway human again. He tried to avoid any fast movements, toweling himself off. In the absence of his toothbrush, Red just rinsed his mouth to remove this sick-making taste.

When he had changed into a pair of jeans and a black shirt he felt ready to face the day - More or less.

The apartment was quiet when he stepped out of his room. Paris had already finished his work and had left a plate for him on the table.

Red gave the food a wide berth and swallowed two aspirin instead.

"Boss?" Tony came around the corner.

"Mhmm."

"Dembe told me to pass on that he will be back in the afternoon. He had to take care of something. He said you know what it is about."

"Thank you, Tony." He was surprised at how rough his own voice was. "Where are Agnes and her nanny?"

"Went to the nursery about 15 minutes ago."

Well, let's get it over with.

He stood in front of the door to Agnes' room for some moments, eavesdropping intensely to make out what was going on inside. But all he heard was ... nothing.

He carefully stuck his head in to risk a look.

When Rosa realized the door opening she put a finger on her lips immediately. Rising from the child's bed she expelled Red out of the room and stepped out in the hallway with him.

"She just fell asleep." Rosa whispered while she slowly closed the door.

If she wouldn't have know better she would have sworn Mr. Reddington looked somewhat disappointed.

"Oh. Well, Rosa, that affords me the opportunity to apologize for my behavior yesterday. That was neither appropriate nor fair, to both of you. I'm sorry." Red cleared his throat. "Why don't you take off the remaining day. Tony will drive you wherever you want to go. Maybe you want to spend some time at home? With your family?"

"Is this your way to tell me I'm fired?"

He blinked. "What makes you think that? You know how I appreciate your work here with Agnes. I'd be quite stranded without you."

"I didn't have that impression yesterday. You really scared me, you know. I was lying awake good part of the night trying to figure out what I did wrong."

"It was not your fault at all. You did nothing wrong. Please believe me and accept my apology." He tried a charming smile on her.

"Did you know you look pretty dangerous when you are livid?"

"I've heard that before, yes."

"You really should pull yourself together when Agnes is around." Rosa was still upset. "When should I return tonight?"

"You decide. Just tell Tony when he should pick you up."

...

When he had finally ushered Rosa out of the apartment along with Tony, Red returned to Agnes' room. Though he was finally alone, he hesitated entering the nursery straightaway. Resting his hand on the knob he took a deep breath before he stepped in noiseless.

Rosa had closed the blinds nearly completely and Red's eyes welcomed the half-light as did his still throbbing head.

Huddled up to a giant stuffed dog, her breathing was steady and her cheeks slightly reddened. Agnes slept deeply and soundly.

Red defeated the wave of emotions that threatens to overpower him when he looked down on the sleeping girl.

He decided to sit by her a few moments just to watch and get his thoughts into an order, his feelings somewhere between hope, disbelief and sheer panic.

As his bottom hit the seat something under him let out a strangled squeak.

He froze. Shit!

But Agnes just let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer to her plushie.

Carefully Red removed all toys from the chair and sat down.

He knew he had to be patient. He knew it would take some time until had certainty.

But - whatever the outcome was - Red was not sure he could handle it properly.

For Agnes' sake he hoped the answer was ›no‹. He had messed up enough lives of those he hold dear. But would it really make a difference to have some numbers on a paper?

Red still sat like this when he heard Dembe returning.

"I got you a new toothbrush."

"Thanks. What exactly happened to the other one?"

"The same as to Agnes'. There's this woman in Baltimore who owes me a favor.

Her company inspects and calibrates equipment for hospital requirements. It will look like a regular check and most important... no connection to any databases."

"Clever. Do I want to hear the story you told her?"

"I don't think so." Dembe grinned.

"How long?"

"Not less than 48 hours, 4 days at longest."

Red grimaced.

"You've torturing yourself with pending questions for quite a while now. You will persevere."

"I will."

"Raymond, have you thought about the consequences if ..."

Dembe broke off mid-sentence when his gaze fell at something behind Red's back. His lips curled up in a faint smile.

"Biga?"

Agnes stood in the hallway, clutching the ear of her stuffed animal she had drawn behind herself. Her hair was messy from her nap but her eyes already twinkled roguishly.

"Well, I haven't heard that for quite a while. Did you have a nice sleep, princess?" Red knelt before her and tried to straighten her hair with his hands. "Dreamed of prince charming on his grey horse?"

Agnes tilted her head questioningly.

He laughed: "You are right. Fortunately this will still take a while. Come on, let's get you ready. Are you hungry?"

Agnes nodded and pointed towards her dog.

"Ok. Let's see if we find something both of you like. But first we get you changed."

...

Getting Agnes ready took him longer than he had expected though, the girl was cooperative for once. He realized he was definitely out of practice and the socks didn't match her dress - but so what.

Entering the kitchen he seated Agnes on the counter.

"If you like we can go to the playground again today - together," he suggested while he began to peel an apple and cut it into small slices.

Agnes took one piece for herself and one for her dog. She shook her head. „No."

"I'm sorry I ran off yesterday. I got ... uh ... scared somehow, you know."

The girl reached out to give him a comforting hug, patting his upper back affectionately.

"Thank you. I'm much better today."

Agnes was contented again and continued to eat her apple and feed her stuffed toy.

"All right, Agnes. What do you want to do now?" Red lifted her from the counter.

"Maybe we can give the park another try yet if I promise I won't run away? What do you think?"

After a moment's consideration the girl finally nodded. Red was relieved. His yesterday's slip was forgiven.

...

The afternoon went by in a flash. Very much to Agnes pleasure Red discovered he had a hidden talent in building sandcastles. Their play made them forget each and everything around.

The reckless boy who dared to run over Agnes' petals-decorated little tower, on the contrary, would never forget the glare he received from the man with the pink bucket in the sandbox. The kid would definitely be more thoughtful going forward.

But Red pushing her on the swing was Agnes' favorite pastime. She couldn't get enough.

That's how it would have been, he imagined. Living just a normal life. Sometimes he had to remember himself that there was one once.

...

After they got home again and had something for dinner Red helped Agnes to change into her pajamas.

"I had lots of fun today, princess. I hope you liked it too." Red stroked her head.

"Yes, I think you did." He kissed her forehead and caught himself wishing the test came back positive for the first time since his talk with Dembe last night. A little spark of a future he was sure there was none.

"It's nearly bedtime now. Do you want me to read you a good night story?"

"No."

"Looking at a picture book?"

"No."

Red frowned. "No?"

Agnes grabbed his hand and maneuvered him into the parlor. She pointed at the piano resolutely.

"You want me to play?"

Agnes was already crawling on the piano bench.

"I guess that's a ›yes‹. Well, I'm afraid my skills are a bit rusty...let's see what I can pull off." he stated more to himself.

He stepped towards the piano and put Agnes on his upper leg before he opened the fallboard. He tried a few chords before he played the first sounds of Brahm's lullaby.

Red needed no score for that piece of music. He remembered it quite well - even after all those years.

Agnes was mesmerized. Her eyes never left his fingers moving over the keys.

"Ok, Agnes, do you want to play with me?"

The girl nodded reverently.

"When I say ›now‹ hit this key, ok? Just go and try it. This one." He showed her but Agnes hesitated.

"Let's do it together, ok? I'll help you."

Jointly they played the tone a few times.

"Great! And now you."

The girl put her tiny finger on the key.

"Yes! Exactly like that! Terrific!"

Agnes beamed up to him.

"Shall we try from the beginning?"

Red watched in amusement when Agnes turned her attention back to the piano. Her facial expression highly concentrated, working her tongue in her mouth.

He played the melody and signaled each time when Agnes had her turn.

"You're a natural talent, princess. Once again?"

The applause tore them out of their cozy togetherness when they finished the second round. Dembe and Rosa stood in the doorway - obviously they had watched them quite a while.

Agnes hopped from Red's lap and ran to greet her nanny.

"Hey, little monkey, that was fabulous! I'm so proud of you!" While she hugged the child tightly she threw Red an approving look. "Come on, let's tuck you into bed. It's time." They were already halfway through the door when Agnes remembered she forgot something important and let go of Rosa's hand. "Biga."

The girl rushed back to Red and gave his cheek a brief peck, embracing him with her little arms.

"Good night to you, too, princess. See you tomorrow."

...

"Does it make a difference at all?" Dembe asked in his usual calm manner when he was alone with his friend.

Red slowly closed the piano's fallboard.

"That's exactly what I'm asking myself since yesterday: Does it really make a difference?" Red rose from the piano bench. "Hell, yes, it does make a difference. Though maybe not at the moment, but eventually it will. And at the most - it will affect my relationship to Elizabeth."

"I see your point."

"Good, because I need you at my side when the time comes. I won't leave a rock unturned until I know what happened and who took it upon themselves to decide about my life. Yet again."

"I'm with you, Raymond. Either way. But for now, all we can do is sit and wait. Even if you abhor nothing more than being condemned to inactivity."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Getting my feet back firmly on the ground every time. I don't know where I'd be without you."

...

Red skimmed the physician's new records first thing after he entered Liz' room for the first time today. No changes. Of course.

He simply stood there watching the gentle raise and fall of her chest.

It didn't happen very often that Red found no words for her to say, no story to tell, no question to ask.

Today was such a day.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Arguments

Arlington, Virginia, August 6th 1988

"We're not getting anywhere like this."

Agent Caul sighed frustrated and placed his palms on the shining surface of the conference table.

"She's talking, yes, but she doesn't tell us anything we don't know already - respectively we won't find out on ourselves." Caul shook his head. "Everyone expected some real splashy information but..." He broke off. "Maybe we expected too much. Maybe we were cheated by the rumors, fooled by the enigmatic sound of her name."

"I don't know. It's like she's holding back." the female lieutenant chimed in. "There have to be more! I'm sure there is more! I did some investigation the last couple of days, reached out to a few informants. They all confirmed she's a pivot." Her enthusiasm was still undaunted.

"You did what?" Agent Caul's eyes went wide. "Who ordered you to do your own investigation, lieutenant? I didn't sign off something like that."

"Well, sir, uh ... I just wanted to help. Get us something we could finally tackle..."

"Stop this right now and focus all your concentration on our task here." Caul's index finger tapped firmly on the files spread out before him to lend more weight into his order. "Didn't I express myself clearly? Which part of ›no one outside this team must hear a word‹ you didn't get? This ... issue... shouldn't attract more attention than it already has. We don't wanna startle or alarm the wrong people.

Otherwise we risk to end up empty-handed. Or worse."

She swallowed hard: "Understood, sir."

"Good! Because one more misconduct, lieutenant, and you are out!"

"With all due respect, sir, maybe someone else should have a try. Someone who has a better take on her than you."

Her toughness caused Caul to frown.

Though he was studying the pattern of his tie intensely he literally felt the several pair of eyes coming to rest on him.

"I don't think this was my envisaged part within this task force." he began when he finally dared to glance up again and found everyone at the table staring at him actually. "I'm sure there are more talented, better trained agents within our team. What about this Cooper for example? Of what I heard he seemed quite capable of assuming an obligation like that."

He knew his resistance was weak. The truth was the possibility exited him. And Caul was right; until now, the outcome was poor. He had watched most of the questionings through the large one-way mirror which parted the interrogation room from the one for observation. Caul hadn't been able to establish the basis of a relationship of mutual trust with Rostova. It was pointless to let him continue the asking.

"Agent Cooper was reassigned to get us some facts and background about Reddington's assignments the last couple of years. I'm sure he got lost in one of Pentagon's archives by now. He's not available." Agent Caul informed him. "The lieutenant is right. If we want some results soon someone else should speak with Rostova."

"Let me guess. I'm the one you're talking about?"

"Indeed."

...

"You must be hungry. I hope you like tuna."

He placed the plate with the sandwich in front of Rostova along with a paper cup. "I wasn't sure how you prefer your coffee. Milk?"

She studied him blatantly before she lifted the paper cup's lid and carefully tried a sip. She grimaced.

"I don't get it how a country as advanced and multicultural as yours isn't able to bring off a proper cup of coffee."

"We simply limit our efforts in upgrading our military instead. Until you can't keep pace and go bust."

"Touché." Rostova unwrapped her sandwich. "Is it your turn now, agent...?"

"Smith."

"Yeah, sure." she smirked. "What happened to your colleague? He was quite fun."

He didn't respond to her remark.

"My superior isn't satisfied with the substance of your answers at all. He thinks all this is for nothing and a waste of effort. Is he right?"

"Maybe he didn't ask the correct questions."

"And what are the correct questions?"

"You'll have to find out, agent ... Smith." Rostova stressed the name in a dramatic manner before she continued: "Look, as a rule my preparations for any assignment are very accurate. Including the background and social environment of my actual target person. I don't like unpleasant surprises. So ... I know exactly who you are. But if you prefer we can leave it on ›Smith‹. No wonder they dragged you into this. But I really doubt you know Raymond as well as you think."

Truth be told he wasn't very surprised by her ruthless condor. He had expected that she would do her homework. "If I consider what I learned about him the last couple of weeks...I come to the conclusion that I don't know him at all. But you are here now to enlighten me, aren't you? Let's say we start from the beginning. When you were ordered to do your Mata-Hari-performance on Reddington?" he opened the file with his notes resolutely to hide his growing nervousness.

"Straight to the point, huh?" she grinned. "No foreplay? Too bad! I received my instructions to approach Commander Reddington more than four years ago."

"Four years?" Well now, Ray was obviously playing with fire longer than he had expected. What a scumbag.

"March 1984." She confirmed.

"Why him?"

"He awoke the attention of my superiors some day." Rostova shrugged casually. "Fast-paced military career, counter-intelligence, entrusted with high level security missions, martial difficulties. An ideal target."

"An ideal victim so to speak."

"Is he? A victim? Maybe, but I didn't have to use any real force." She chuckled.

"Then how did you make him to dance to your tune?"

"Well, it wasn't really that hard. An embassy ball in Paris, some champagne, some flattery...what makes men tick is always the same, regardless whether they live in the States, in Moscow or in some tents near the Arctic Circle. Don't you think so, agent?" her voice became suddenly seductive.

"You'd sure be the one to know." His suspicion that Rostova didn't want to take him seriously increased gradually.

"And what is it that makes you tick, Agent Smith?" she leant back in her chair.

The part of his mind which remembered his training screamed alarm not to give away anything personal. His instincts on the contrary recommended him to do the exact opposite.

"The simple things, I guess. Friendship for example, a fine bottle of wine, a good meal, loyalty, waking up every day with the same gorgeous woman by my side. Watching my daughter growing up. Doing my job as good as I can. I imagine this sounds quite boring to you. Way too common." He managed a weak smile.

Katharina Rostova regarded him with some curiosity before she answered. For a short moment he thought he saw something kindling in her eyes, but he couldn't grasp it.

"No." she admitted. "Not at all. Isn't this what we all crave for? Sure, life can offer so much more, but at the end of the day those are the things that count, aren't they? You seem to be way ahead compared to most of the men I met before. To be honest I envy you in many ways. There's nothing more I wish for than some commonplace. Some boredom."

He tilted his head as if to check if she was making fun of him again, but he found her nothing but vigorous when she continued:

"A lot has changed since my daughter was born. Is it wrong that I want the same simple things you talked about? Watching her growing up? Preparing her for the world that awaits her? No. I think it's my God-given right as her mother." She clenched her hands to fists. "And it's all that is left for me now. Until today I put my whole life in the service of fighting back the imperialist class enemy, but history will prove that the Soviet Union is on the loser's side. I was on the loser's side. I'm sick of living a life in disguise. I've betrayed people, I've killed people. Everything I believed in for all of my life is called into question. Let me tell you that it feels like crap. My child is all that counts now. All that I have left. That's why I'm here. To have a future, with her."

It was the first time some of Rostova's grim determination and dangerous nature shimmered through her well-controlled appearance. He realized this woman would get anything she wanted, manipulating and threatening her way towards her aim. Costs what it may.

He couldn't help admiring her therefore. She sure as hell knew exactly what she was doing.

He wasn't aware of the reaction of his co-workers and bosses behind the large one-way mirror witnessing Rostova's confession. While most of them did nothing to hide their astonished expression, Caul let out a long hold breath. A breakthrough, finally. They had to extract advantages of mother bear's resolve to protect her cub. She was hanging on the hook.

Inside the interrogation room the silence got more and more uncomfortable. "You are really serious." he stated finally, surprised by Rostova's sincerity as well.

"Have you been honest about what you said before?" She leaned forward again, holding his gaze.

"Yes."

She nodded. "All right then. That's something we can build on now. Let's try some honesty for once. No more games."

He silently agreed.

"Your daughter. What's her name?"

"Masha."

Kept in rein fire spends light and heat.

Illuminating the darkness, warming up body and soul. Keeping the beasts at distance who lurk in the shady cold.

Beyond control fire loosens all of that, consuming everything on it's path, becoming a insatiable beast itself.

As the smoke clears nothing is left but a black and vast plain full of ashes and death. And the stench of burned up flesh.

Red sat on the chesterfield watching the flames dancing and licking at the logs in the fireplace. The night had become quite chilly after a stormy day had ended.

He had got rid of his vest and jacket. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, sleeves rolled up to let the warmth limber up his skin.

He had spent most of the day along with Smokey and Crespin following a lead on the mysterious guy from the farmhouse his asset inside the MP had brought up.

Another failure.

Running his thumb up and down his forehead he wondered if this guy, whoever he was, even had a clue what he had in his possession. Until now no one had reached out to him. No one attempted at blackmailing him or sowing doubts within his allies or foes. Not even rumors were circulating. What the hell was this son of a bitch waiting for? That Raymond Reddington would come for him to snatch the bag from his dead and stiff fingers?

He more felt than heard someone entering the room and settling down by his side on the large couch.

Dembe had left early in the morning after he had received a text message. The glance he had darted at Red when he grabbed the car keys left no room for further speculations.

"I'm back."

"Took you long enough."

"I was sitting in the car for hours searching for the right words to tell you, depending on what the result may be." Dembe run his hand over his shaven head. "Didn't find any. I'm sorry my friend."

"What does it say?"

"That's for you to find out, Raymond. I leave you alone." He got ready to rise from his space on the sofa.

"Stay! Rip it open and tell me!"

"Are you sure?"

"No." Red swallowed hard. "Just do it."

Dembe's expression was unreadable as he slowly folded the piece of paper up again after he had a look at it.

He placed the sheet between both of them on the sofa, avoiding to look at his friend. "Congrats." he spoke finally.

Hopefully this was the very last DNA test he was looking at for the rest of his life, Red thought as he had a glimpse at the test himself.

"Degree of probability: 99,97 %."

Though he had the feeling like throwing up any moment he managed to step in front of the mantle and held the paper into the fire.

The flames needed less than a second to reduce it into ashes.

Dembe's eyes widened slightly. "That doesn't make it go away."

"It." Red echoed. "Striking, isn't it, what an incredible story lies behind such a simple word. As yet we only know the end...but we sure as hell are gonna find out the first chapters of this cheap novelette. And the novelists." Red's eyes burned with rage.

"I have a feeling this will get ugly again, but angriness is never a good adviser. It only makes you losing sight on the important things. The ones that really matters. Agnes is yours, Raymond." Dembe rose from his seat and stepped in front of his friend. "Nothing could ever change that fact. There's no need to dig up the past. Look forward and tackle the future. Now you can be sure you have one, a second chance."

"Do you suggest that I should just go on and pretend nothing has happened?" Red snorted, the muscle under his left eye twitching. "I've been deceived and manipulated. Someone removed and concealed the nature of my tie to Agnes. It was a pure coincidence that fraud was shown up. If we were talking about Isabella or her daughter right now...tell me, what would you do in my place?"

"Take the girls and run."

"Say again!"

"Seriously. Get your box from Dom's place and leave. Nothing and no one is able to touch you on the island, not even the secret the bones will expose. There are also excellent physicians in Brunei for Elizabeth. For 30 years you were willing to die finding the answers. Now you have found out something to live for."

"Did you come up with this...this downright ridiculous idea while sitting in the car? Do you really think I'll give that a serious consideration? For over three decades every single woman who crossed my way is dead or miserable. Elizabeth, Katharina, Josephine, Kate, Carla, my family ... should I continue? ...

You know why? Because of me." Red spat out. "My pure existence is the undoubted cause of their suffering. I'm poison to everyone who comes too close."

"Raymond, ..." Dembe began soothingly but was cut off immediately.

"Let me tell you what I should do. You are right, I should leave. Stay out of this and put some daylight between Elizabeth, Agnes and myself. As I should have done from the beginning. Looking backwards Raymond Reddington was a menace for them, many times bigger than Tom Keen ever could have been."

"I knew you'd be upset but now I feel like you are overreacting." Dembe frowned but never lost his calm manner.

"Given the circumstances I don't believe that's possible."

A strange sense of déjà vu crossed Red's mind. He felt like a similar conversation had taken place once before. He slightly shook his head to get rid of it before he collapsed on the couch exhausted.

"I hear your message well, but I have little faith." Red quoted. "A leopard can't change his spots, Dembe. Elizabeth and Agnes are far better off without me."

Dembe was about to lose his temper:

"Come on! Don't give me `Faust', Raymond. You don't have a pact with the devil and your soul isn't lost yet. Even though you believe you deserve nothing but suffering. The pain had become your best friend. You feel comfortable in it's embrace. You welcome the darkness.

You are frightened that moments of joy and contentment would drag you even deeper towards the chasm. Here's another quote for you: when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you!

Think about that and now ... good night! I don't want to watch how you prefer to sink into self-pity and raise the roof because you came to know something wonderful that you should be pleased about any longer!" With that Dembe turned to leave the room.

"That's Nietsche!" Red called after him.

"I know!" came the reply just before the door closed with a thud.

Red was left behind alone confronted with a overwhelming mixture of emotions.

He gritted his teeth, recalling the dressing-down he just got and pushed the impression that Dembe sometimes knew him better than he knew himself to the back of his mind.

Resisting the urge to numb his feelings with a fair amount of scotch he slowly headed towards Liz' room.

"Good evening, Elizabeth! How are you today?"

He reached for her hands. They were cold and clamp to his touch.

"I hope you didn't overhear my argument with Dembe. We didn't want to bother you. His way of looking at things is sometimes ... unique." He checked her forehead, finding the skin there pleasingly warm. "If he's right? I don't know. Probably. But I'll fail to accept his advice. I always had to get to the bottom of things, piece together the puzzle. Even if it always got me more problems than discoveries. That's at least something we have in common, isn't it?" he stated while he covered Liz' hands with the blanket attentively.

Red looked at her for a long time, recalling the events of the evening.

"I believe you and me have something to talk about, Elizabeth." He took a deep breath. "Did you know? How did it happen that my daughter called Tom Keen her daddy? Was it you who left me clueless?" He fought back his anew uprising anger, giving her the benefit of a doubt.

"It seems at some point we crossed the line, huh? I'm sure it was my lapse." A faint smile flashed over his face.

"You don't have to answer my questions, Elizabeth. I'll find out - for both of us."

Red flipped his burner open and stepped in front of the large window.

"Good evening, Vice Director Jones, ... I hope I haven't interrupt anything important. Like a roll in the hay with your handsome boyfriend ... as I understand your wife is out of town? ...

That's great to hear, because I need to speak to our mutual friend - now. ...

Yes, I know what time it is. Now get up and into your car. ... Don't put my patience to the test. I'll call again in an hour. ... Ignore the speed limits ...

It would be better for your marriage and your career that he will receive the call."

After he had ended the conversation Red quietly took place at Liz' bedside and then he waited.

...


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Too late

Arlington, September 1st 1988

"Hey, pal, have you spoken to the Navy lieutenant today?" A member of the secretarial staff poked her head in after she gave his office door a brief knock.

"No, not since yesterday. Why?" He looked up from his paperwork.

"She didn't show up for work this morning. Doesn't respond to our phone calls." he was informed.

"Maybe she's having a smoke or she called in sick? Have you checked?"

"Sure. Seems that one knows where she is right now. Sorry for the interruption." She closed the door just to open it again a second later. "Oh, almost forgot ... your wife is on the phone, line 4."

"Thank you!"

He answered the call. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hello, stranger." he was greeted. "I think I forgot what you look like. Will you be home for the weekend? We miss you."

"I miss you, too. I'll try to be home Saturday night, ok? How are you both doing? Everything fine?"

"Yes, pretty much it's ok, except our princess flunked her math test and the plumber finally sent me the cost estimate for the repair of our heating. It's not good, honey."

"Which means...?" He run his hand through his hair.

"Twice as much as we had expected."

"Terrific!" he snarled. "That was it for our vacation in Florida next year."

"Don't get upset, honey. Everything's gonna be ok. I'm sure we'll handle that. We'll talk about it when you're home." She slightly hesitated: "I've got news."

"More broken heatings and failed tests?" he sighed.

His wife laughed warmly. "No, it's rather good news though, it's quite unexpected."

"I'm listening."

"No, not at the phone. I'll tell you in person. I wanna see your face."

"You make me curious. Give me a hint."

"Nope. No hint."

"You're cruel, woman."

"You have no idea."

"You bet I have."

She could hear the broadly grin in his voice just before he got sober again: "Heard anything from Carla recently?"

"I did. She and Ray went to the cabin for a few days. Carla asked me to look after Jennifer until they are back. She's staying with us right now. They'll pick her up on Sunday."

"Trying to get things straight again you think?"

"Guess so. I wish them the best. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"Yeah..."

"Watch yourself, honey. See you on Saturday. I love you."

"Love you too."

...

A few hours later, when he entered the interrogation room, he almost had forgotten what he had talked about with his wife. His regular life seemed light years away from the job he was doing currently.

"We checked the details you handed us last time we met. And thanks to your information we found the leak at our consular office in Prague. An employee was arrested yesterday evening. The US government is grateful for your cooperation, Mrs. Rostova."

"That remains to be seen."

"We won't let you leave you out in the lurch. If you keep your promises, we also honor our agreement. Quid pro quo."

As a rejoinder to his statement a bitter laugh escaped Katharina Rostova: "You haven't been in this business for long, have you?"

"No, not really to be honest. But usually I stand with my word."

"My instincts recommend to trust you, but I don't trust the system. Neither on this nor on the other side of the Iron Curtain. I've overcome too much to rely on anything than myself."

"I see."

"No, you don't. Look, I like you, I really do." She gently placed her hand on his. "You are a decant man just fulfilling his duty. But you have no clue. Be careful this whole mess doesn't come back to you and bite you in the ass."

"Is that some kind of threat?" he frowned, withdrawing his hand.

"No. That's a warning. This might be a number too big for you."

It was indeed Frank Gibbs on the line when Red called back exactly one hour later. And he boiled with indignation.

"What are you? Nuts?"

"Good evening, Frank. I'm sorry for the inconvenience caused, but..." he couldn't complete his sentence.

"You just vaporized any ounce of trust I was able to forge with Krilov over the last few weeks." Red was interrupted by an upset Gibbs. "I was so close to finally pull something substantial out of him. You think it was helpful forcing Mr. smart-ass here to illuminate the whole cell block in the middle of the night and drag me out of my bed - not that it is very comfortable- to the director's office? You'll better come up with a good story how I should explain that to Krilov and the others. Otherwise I have to start all over again."

"Frank!" Red tried patiently.

"Don't you `Frank' me. He was extremely careful not to give away anything. I worked really hard to gain at least some of his confidence. It's all gone now - because of your ludicrous intervention. And, Red, I have to get out of here. It kills me. The food is lousy, the reek unbearable and Agent Ressler's persisting interrogations bore me to death."

"Frank! Hold it!" Red was more forceful this time. When he realized Gibbs had fell silent he continued: "It's over. Your job is done. I'll take it from here. The circumstances have changed to a matter of more urgency. Tell me what you got so far."

Gibbs took a deep breath. "Krilov doesn't like you very much."

"That hurts."

"When I hinted that it was you who was responsible for my capture he got accessible for the first time. My enemy's enemy is my friend. You know how it works. He gloated over the fact that he's the one who outwitted Raymond Reddington. Talked about performing some sort of art and that he had to rig something up somehow because the Feds seized his equipment. Until now I really failed to grasp how all this is connected. But I would have figured it out if you just have let me."

"I'm confident you would have. Did he mentioned who were his client two years ago?"

"In fact he did."

"Don't keep me on tenterhooks. Spit it out."

"He said it was in the middle of the night when they showed up at his doorstep, waving around with a lot of money and a chance to kick your butt. Yours and your lady friend's."

He had known it. "They?"

"Yes. Puppy-face and the lesbian. I have no clue what he was trying to say but it sounded ... uh ... interesting." Gibbs chuckled quietly. "I hope you'll get something out of it."

Amazingly enough Red realized he wasn't even surprised.

"Thank you, my friend. Now get your ass out of there. If you encounter any difficulties - contact me."

Arlington, September 1st 1988

His meeting with Katharina Rostova at the blacksite on this Thursday afternoon came to an abrupt ending by Leonard Caul bursting into the interrogation room with a grim expression on his face.

"We're done for today. I'm sorry Mrs. Rostova. Please let our chauffeur know where he should take you. We'll be in touch." Caul turned towards him: "I need you to come with me. Now."

"Did I something wrong?" he asked rattled when he had a seat at the passenger side of Caul's car. "I know, I'm not always following the book but..."

"What? No, no, no - you're doing a great job. Your instincts are worth a mint. You're more gifted than you are aware of. That's not it. Something happened. Something I wanted to avoid at all costs." Caul's knuckles became white with tension when he gripped the steering wheel and floored the gas pedal.

It had gone dark by the time they arrived at their destination.

The emergency lights of about a dozen police cars, crime scene units and ambulances bathed the street in a surreal light.

Their badges got them through the cordon and to the 2nd floor of a well-kept apartment house in downtown D. C.

A detective was waiting for them in front of number 16. "Agent Caul? We spoke on the phone." They shook hands briefly. Police officers and forensics bustled about inside the small apartment, which was a shambles. The cabinet's contents were spread everywhere on the floor. Every single drawer had been torn out and emptied, some pillows had been sliced and the carpet was cluttered with shards.

A young man sat on the sofa amidst the chaos, appearing lost and shell-shocked. An officer carefully tried to question him but he just shook his head continually.

"Superficially it looks like a burglary which got out of hand." the detective tried to explain the obvious. "But jewelry, cash, her service weapon ... nothing is missing. Seems the perpetrators were looking for something specific. You wouldn't happen to know what it was, would you?" He raised his brow.

"What have you got so far?" Caul wanted to know.

"Her fiancee reported her missing about 6 hours ago." The detective nodded towards the devastated man who had sunk down on the sofa. "They were supposed to have dinner at his place yesterday evening. She didn't show up and didn't answer his calls.

According to him she acted somehow odd the last few days. He has no key to her apartment so he insisted on forcing open the door." He signified to follow him as he turned towards the bedroom.

"Time of death at some time between midnight and 2 a.m. this morning. Be warned, this is not a pretty sight."

Unlike to Caul, who's face showed no emotional reaction at all on the provided horrible image, his face grew deathly pale and his stomach went weak immediately. He had never seen so much blood in his life before. Obviously the lieutenant had been beaten up pretty bad before someone had cut her throat, leaving her behind on the blood-soaked former white bedroom carpet.

"Hey, rookie, don't you dare to puke on my crime scene!" The detective's harsh words yanked him back to reality. With a sharp intake of air he rushed out of the room and just made it outside before he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bushes in front of the building.

He still gagged when Caul stepped out some minutes later along with the cop.

"Feeling better again?" The detective slapped his back in compassion. "At some point you get used to the smell and the sight. Just be sure you'll never get used to the fact that a human life was terminated by a maniac. Otherwise you are boned." He gave him an encouraging smile before he turned his attention to Caul again.

"Now tell me, Agent Caul, why is it that the Feds are interested in the investigation of a murdered Navy lieutenant? I expected NCIS to show up but instead the place is overcrowded with you people."

He pointed towards a black limousine in some distance where they could watch three men obviously discussing something important which caused them to gesture around vividly.

"The small fellow is my boss. The others smell of government. Someone you know?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Caul grunted as he noticed one of said men coming up to meet them.

"Joseph McCray. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Alan Fitch." Caul greeted unblinkingly. "I could ask you the same. Isn't a simple murder beneath your dignity? I thought the intrigues and wire-pulling on Capitol Hill matches your taste much more."

"It was Capitol Hill which ordered me here to make sure you won't screw up again." Fitch sneered.

"Don't be ridiculous, Alan. You're just as surprised as I am. Stop putting your nose in other people's business and let them do their job. We'll better leave now. Detective, thank you for keeping me updated."

...

"I need a beer, or two." he groaned when they were in the car again on their way back to the blacksite. "For my part I definitely need something stronger." Caul replied.

"Are you ok? You've been rather quiet." Caul asked while he conjured two glasses and a bottle of scotch out of the file cabinet in his office.

"Are you kidding? I'm anything but ok! My God, have you seen this poor woman? A member of our team was butchered like an wild animal, dammit. What the hell you'd got me into?" He banged his fist on the table. "Someone forgot to mention we'd run the risk of being killed working for you. I don't want to end up like her. Not for some worthless information about some fucking turncoats who blew some fucking secrets. And why the hell did this guy call you McCray?"

Caul remained astonishing calm. "Have one." he said, putting a glas of scotch before his opposite. Though he usually refused hard liquor he did as he was told.

Sitting down on his office chair Caul waited until he had gulped back his drink and refilled both glasses. "Because Alan knows me as Joseph McCray since our common training at Langley years ago. Somewhere down the road I changed my operative name in Leonard Caul to mask my connection to the agency. Standard practice for undercover assignments. While I was busting my ass abroad, Alan advanced in his job, increasing his ties, gaining the attention of powerful supporters. Fitch is the new rising star within the agency. He never got his hands messy. I wonder why he showed up today."

"Nice story." he answered with dry sarcasm. "Maybe you'll come up with another one? About why some freak cut the lieutenant's throat, for example?"

"I ordered her, ordered everyone here, to button up her lips. She disobeyed and asked around. With that she put us all in danger. Do you think the Russians will lay back and watch while we eviscerate their top agent? No way in hell."

"You think it was KGB's deed? An act of vengeance? What were they looking for? I'm not under the impression that she learned something decisive, something worth to get murdered for."

"I'm not sure. However, in any case we alarmed someone. It would do us no harm if we are on guard. "

Shit! She would be late again today, she realized after a brief glimpse at her watch.

Why does Max have to dawdle around every morning? It was the third time this month he had missed the bus and she was forced to drive him. It wasn't even 9 o'clock and she was on the edge. Her day was done already. Her boss would throw her the same admonishing looks as always when she passed his office in a rush again.

Nothing else but her professional abilities prevent him from firing her. Hurrying along the sidewalk, she wondered how long this fact would safe her from a dismissal.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the tall man who was leaning against an elegant black Mercedes limousine, stepping up to her when she was about to pass the car.

"Dr. Orchard. I'm sorry to bother you, but there's something we want to discuss."

When Dr. Selma Orchard bent down to look who was waiting in the car, she knew today it wouldn't end with some disapproving glances from her boss.

She would be far too late.

...


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Favors

"You!"

"Good morning, Dr. Orchard. May I offer you a ride?" Red turned on all his charm.

"Thank you, but no thanks. I'll walk. It's just half a block." She turned to go but Dembe's solid form prevented her from doing so.

"I'm awfully sorry, but I have to insist. Get in." Red patted the vacant seat by his side.

"Mr. Reddington, I beg you, whatever it is ... look for it somewhere else. You and your friends caused me enough excitement for a lifetime. I just want to be left alone."

"Do you like your new job, Dr. Orchard?"

"It pays my rent and fills my fridge."

"A simple `no' would have done." Red chuckled. "What if I'd provide you the opportunity to pursue your research without this constant and humiliating panhandling for state or business funds? Let's say for at least ... 3 years."

"What are the odds that my son and myself get kidnapped and threatened by some lunatics again?" Dr. Orchard wasn't convinced yet though her interest was clearly aroused.

"Unlikely to none. It's very private. No FBI or other lunatics. Just you and me. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important, Selma. Consider me as your first human guinea pig of your restarted lab work."

She didn't hesitate too long. "5 years and a generous college fund for my son."

"We're in business, Dr. Orchard." Red smirked, when she finally sat next to him.

"I regret it already." she sighed. "Well, I'm listening. What is it I can do for you?"

"I'm in desperate need of your splendid talents as a lock-picker." Red folded his hands in his lap.

"I beg your pardon?" Dr. Orchard gave him an uncomprehending glance.

"I'm convinced there's something locked up in my head I have no access to. Like a secret hidden and sealed behind a solid steel door underneath which you can make out a ray of light now and then. You know it's there but you grab at nothing.

I want you to open this door for me."

"I knew it had to be something like that. Just the same as back then with Elizabeth? Some childhood memories?"

"Not exactly. Unlike her I'm well aware that I've been manipulated. And it happened not that long ago. But the procedure was likely quite the same."

"Krilov?"

He just nodded.

"I see. It's a shame that a man of his talent and intellect chose to earn his money that way." she shook her head sadly. "I can't imagine what he would have been able to achieve if he had chosen to serve science instead of patch something together among the shadows. What a waste! And why is it that he always emerges in your wake? Is there a history you share with him?"

"That would be clearly exaggerated." he answered evasively.

"Ok, here's my doctor's advice. That one is for free: All of you should really make sure not to have tampered your mind ever again. Otherwise you'll wake up some day without a clue who you have been or, expressed more precisely, who you actually are."

"You think? Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

Orchard missed Reddington's sarcastic undertone. "Good. There's one more problem. It will take a while until I'm able to help you."

"I'm afraid that's unacceptable."

"I'll tell you what's unacceptable!" Orchard shot back. "The Feds placed my whole equipment under confiscation, after Dr. Krilov used it to mess around with one agent's brain. It probably rusts away in some evidence room, waiting for Krilov's trial. They didn't even bother to answer my written protest.

"Make a list. I'll arrange appropriate replacement." Red offered.

"Probably take even longer to calibrate the new devices to match my wants. Isn't it possible for you to pull some strings to get back my stuff? I'm sure you know the right people."

"I'll see what I can do about it." Red's hope for a fast reconnaissance were dashed.

"I appreciate that."

"Any alternatives?"

"No one I can think of."

"I will contact you. It won't be long, so be prepared."

...

Donald Ressler obviously was good-humored when he bumped into Red and Dembe on his way to the elevator at the post office.

"Reddington, we didn't expect you here today. What's wrong?"

"I should ask the same from you, Donald. What are you so cheerful about? Usually you aren't this glad to see me." Red obviously enjoyed trading barbs with Ressler, who put his hands on his hips, before he answered: "I'm on my way to your friend Gibbs. The second time today. He's bubbling over with names, dates and locations. I hate to say it, but it seemed you were right again. It was only a matter of time."

"I'm happy to hear that. I assume he will get his deal?"

"First of all we have to check if his information is worth the effort, but the DA is inclined to temper justice with mercy. You care for this guy, don't you?" Ressler frowned.

"I'm here to see Harold." Red diverted. "Is he in?"

"Last time I saw him he was at the telephone in his office."

"Thank you." Red patted Donald's shoulder with a smile. "Agent Ressler, please don't push Frank too hard. Beneath his hard shell you'll find a quite sensitive flower."

...

"Come!" Cooper wondered if he ever would get through with his paperwork if these persisting disruptions would continued. This time someone was knocking at his door. "Reddington. Since when do you bother to knock?"

"Well, I wanted to try something new. Changing routine could be refreshing now and then. Did it work?"

"What do you want?" Cooper narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"I'm here to ask you a small favor, Harold."

"And that would be ...?"

"I want you to approve Dr. Selma Orchard's objection regarding the confiscation of her medical equipment as an evidence for the Krilov case." Red made himself comfortable in one of the seats in front of Harold's desk.

Cooper removed his glasses and dropped his pen. He abandoned his hope to finish his file memorials for good. "And why should I do that?" he sighed, leaning back in his large office chair.

"Because Dr. Orchard requires it to earn a living for her son and herself."

"I see. And for support she came to you. You, of all people. Don't get me wrong, I don't have any personal problems with her, but the trial hasn't even started yet. Besides she will get indemnified for her loss when Krilov's sentence is pronounced."

"No one knows when that would be. In the meantime Dr Orchard is forced to do a job she detests."

"Okay, Reddington. That's enough." Cooper held up both hands. "Why don't you stop screwing with me and tell me the truth? What is it that you want from Dr. Orchard? Which poor soul are you after this time?"

Red crossed his legs. "I'd rather keep it to myself."

"I can not help you then I'm afraid."

"I have a few personal matters to attend to. It only concerns Dr. Orchard and myself. Doctor-patient confidentiality, to cut a long story short."

Now Red had caught Cooper's full attention. "Should I be worried? Are you sick? Dr. Orchard's métier is cognitive neuroscience..."

"No, Harold." Reddington interrupted. "There's nothing you have to be worried about if you comply with my request. I won't ask again and for sure I won't beg for your help." Red managed to sharpen his chesty voice even more, but Cooper remained almost unaffected.

"No, your god-damned ego would forbid it. One day your pride will be the straw that breaks your back."

Red slightly moved his head from side to side considering Cooper's notion. "I'd rather think it would be my tendency to place confidence in the wrong person that breaks my neck some day. It's always the one you expect least."

"I can't see this happening because there's no one in this universe you place your trust in."

"Even if you could not possibly fathom it, Harold, there is. There are. I'm sitting right in front of one of them. Time will tell if I am wrong. Time will tell if you are a friend or a heeler for Department of Justice plainly."

Red's straightforwardness caught Cooper slightly off guard but he sniffed a matchless opportunity.

"All right then. I will see what I can do about it..."

"I appreciate your concession."

"...if you do me a small favor in return."

Cooper reached into a drawer of his desk and threw a much-thumbed file on his desk before Reddington.

"What's this?" Red made no move to take a closer look.

"Your new case. An old one rather. The file was officially closed at the end of the nineties. But it doesn't prevent me from picking it up from time to time, looking for new evidence. I'm on to it for years now but there was no real progress. I thought maybe you are able to shed new light on things."

"That's not the way it works. I am the CI here who provides you the names. Names from my list. Not the other way around. I'm not interested."

"Let's try something new for once. I've heard changing routine could be refreshing now and then." Cooper didn't even blink an eye.

"Obviously a smart advice from a wise man."

"If you say so. Maybe we could trade favors with each other. Are you interested now?"

"Go ahead." Red gave in. Cooper's proposal was fair enough.

Harold nodded approvingly and gestured towards the old file before he provided Reddington a brief summary: "Between 1987 and 1993 several children were abducted from their home. The youngest was only three years old. There was no connection between them other than at least one parent occupied a significant position in government. Two congressmen, a judge, a senator's assistant, some officials at government departments. The procedure was always the same. The kids disappeared at some point between nightfall and daybreak from their family home. The next day their parents received a blackmailing letter with instructions, always connected to their job. Change voting behavior, approve or refuse an application, let a suspect walk away, things like that. But no one was able to find a common thread. A few days after the demands were followed the children reappeared as quickly as they had vanished."

"The Pied Piper, like in the "Pied Piper of Hamelin". I've heard the stories." Reddington took up the thread. "The abductions suddenly stopped in 1993. No one had an explanation why. Maybe he died or went to prison because of another crime he committed. The FBI got stuck with their investigations. There was no suspect at all. No traces and the kid's statements where useless because they couldn't remember anything. The blood work showed remains of heavy sedatives. There were a lot of speculation about the involvement of foreign intelligence services who wanted to influence crucial rulings. The MO indicated that it was indeed a professional job."

"You know quite a lot about this case." Cooper discovered in surprise. "You didn't happen to deal with the Piper before, did you? What do you know that we don't?"

"You learn a thing or two if you are vigilant and listen." Red stated fairly vague. "Tell me, why he's so important you keep the case file in your drawer for decades?"

"Two children never came back. They remained missing. Up to the present day. One of them was the son of a friend. His name is ... was Jason. He'd be 34 now, maybe a father of his own. His parents never got over it. That's why I look at this case again from time to time. Searching for something overlooked in the past."

"You want me to find out what happened to him."

"The parents have every right to know. Don't you think so? To have some closure finally. No one can imagine what it is like to live with this uncertainty."

"Unless they walked through something similar." Red pursued his lips. "I'll put my ear to the ground."

Cooper gave him a thankful nod. "Take the file. Look for anything we missed as yet."

"I'm sure you didn't miss anything of it's content. It's time to look for something it doesn't say. Keep the file. I do not need it." Red knew everything he had to know for now.

"Reddington, one more point ..." Cooper searched for the adequate words before he continued: "I don't really care about what will happen to the kidnapper... if you root him out."

Red slightly bowed his head as he put on his fedora, running his hands along it's brim and turned to leave Cooper's office.

Harold stared at the closed door for a long moment before he lifted the receiver and dialed a number.

...

"It's really fascinating how someone could make out anything of all this numbers and characters. That's all Greek to me."

Aram jumped at Red's unmistakable voice sounding right behind him all of a sudden.

"What does it say?" Red leaned over Aram's shoulder, glancing at the screen with curiosity.

"Mr. Reddington! Please don't startle me like that. I didn't even hear you approaching." Aram swallowed hard and released a breath before he explained: "I'm running a data collation with Interpol's criminal records. Based on the dates and names Mr. Gibbs gave to Agent Ressler. Looking for a match."

"Did you find anything?"

"Not yet, but it's a huge data set. It will take a while."

Red nodded his understanding before he lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"Maybe, in the meantime, you can help me to figure out something. Maybe somewhere in the innards of this infernal machine there's a hint about what happened to Mr. Kaplan's inheritance, after she decided to jump from that bridge voluntarily. Maybe someone with your abilities is able to find out about things like that. Are you capable, Agent Mojtabai?"

"This shouldn't cause any difficulties, Mr. Reddington. There's nothing you won't find out with this infernal machine." Aram was amused yet again by Red's aversion for everything related to modern IT systems before he was suddenly overcome by the realization that his boss might have no knowledge of Red's request. The young man glanced up to Cooper's office window uneasily, his fingers nervously wandering towards the knot of his tie. "Uh...well, I'm not sure if I should... Did Director Cooper sign off on it?"

"No. And I don't want anyone else to know. This is between us, Agent Mojtabai. I can't answer Cooper's questions right now. All I want is a little information about a dead woman. What harm could it do?"

Aram's facial expression mimicked his inner conflict but yet he asked: "Are you looking for something special? This could help to limit and define search parameters."

"A name would do it. Who took care of her property? Thank you, Aram."

The young agent watched Red heading for the elevator, mumbling to himself.

"Thank you, Aram. This is between us, Aram. It always starts with small favors..."

"Pardon?" Red turned around once again. "Were you saying something?"

"Uh, no. No, not at all."


End file.
